


Curtain's Fall: Grande Finale

by omphalos, Wolfling



Series: Of Old Mystics [10]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Epic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Other, Post-Canon, Romance, Schmoop, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphalos/pseuds/omphalos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final performance. the most death-defying feat of magic and display...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of Old Mystics was originally published in regular instalments between May 2003 - March 2005. The story began some months after the end of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, season 7. Curtain's Fall is the fifth and final volume of the epic saga, and it's so long we split it into five unequal sections. This is part four, Grande Finale.

Ethan slipped very slowly into consciousness as if floating on gentle waves into shore. Soft warm sheets surrounded him, and he felt very comfortable. He rolled over to snuggle close to Rupert, but found instead his face full of fur. A rough tongue licked his neck.

"Hello, sweetheart," he murmured into Skunk's flank. "What have you done with the man of the house?"

"Ethan?" The hopeful voice from elsewhere in the room was familiar and welcome if not the one he wanted to hear the most. "Are you awake?"

"Approaching it." Then he worked out to whom the voice belonged and sat up abruptly. "Dawn!" He stared at her. "Are you...?"

"Alive? Whole? Human?" she finished for him with a smile. "All of the above." She suddenly moved forward and hugged him tightly. "Thanks to you."

Ethan held her equally tightly; she certainly felt alive and real in his arms. He tried to reach out with his pattern senses just to check that was true, but this proved to be a mistake as his world immediately decided to make an admirable attempt at becoming a spinning top. He fell back against the headboard, clasping his hand over his eyes. "Bugger."

"You might want to give the magic a break for a while," Dawn intuited, or perhaps she could sense it having shared a body with him for a while. He'd ask her as soon as his head cleared. "You used up pretty much everything you had with what you did for me," she said. "Even breathing was pretty touch and go for a while. Yours, I mean. Giles was in a total panic."

Ethan looked hazily at her from over the top of his hand. "But you're all right?"

"I am. Really."

His thoughts were coming slowly, one thing at a time. He looked around the room. Ah, he was home, back at Mountbatten. Oh, that felt good. He wanted Rupert though and wasn't sure if he dared reach out to him after what had just happened when he'd tried to look at Dawn. "And everyone else is all right? Rupert?"

"Giles is fine," Dawn was quick to assure him. "He's downstairs doing Head Watcher stuff. He's going to be so relieved that you're awake." She jumped up. "I should go get him for you," she said, heading for the door.

"Dawn..." Ethan's head was still spinning a little, but he knew there was something wrong. Something he'd forgotten to do maybe or... oh God. "Ian."

Dawn stopped in the doorway, turning back to Ethan with a sad, sympathetic expression. "Ian didn't make it."

"He..." It was all coming back to him now: the maze, the battles, the knowledge of Ian's death smashing into him. "He helped me save you. Without him, we'd both be dead."

"He was always nice to me. I liked him." Dawn came back over and sat on the edge of the bed. "I wouldn't have asked him to trade his life for mine. Been down that road before, and it's hard being the one left behind."

"He's... he's where he wants to be." Christ, Ethan wished he could feel certain about that. He patted Dawn's leg. "It wasn't an exchange. It wasn't like that at all. He died before we even used you. Er, the Key, that is. But he... er, hung around. Helped me reform your body. At least, I think he did. I could have been hallucinating, I suppose." He gave her a weak smile.

Dawn took his hand and returned his smile a bit shakily. "I'd like to think you weren't hallucinating. So let's believe that, okay?"

"It felt real to me." He squeezed her hand. "Dawn, would you mind opening the door? I can send Skunk for Rupert. I'd call him, but..." The need to see him, to touch him was becoming pressing.

Dawn leapt to her feet again. "Right. I can go get him–"

"Stay?" Ethan said quickly. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, and wonderful through Skunk was, her conversation lacked something. "Please? I... er. I guess I've grown used to having you around." He tried for a jaunty wink, and it earned him a quick smile. Dawn continued across the room to open the door, but then came back and sat beside him again. "Fetch Rupert, sweetheart?" Ethan told his dog. "Hurry girl!" As she scampered from the room, Ethan smiled at Dawn.

"Y'know," she began thoughtfully, "in a weird way you're like my father now. Bringing me into the world and all that."

He snorted quietly. "I certainly prefer 'father' to 'mother'. There was, uh, a certain amount of jibing whilst I was carrying your pattern." He reached out and allowed a lock of her hair to fall through his fingers. "I know your pattern so well now. Almost as well as my own."

"What's it like?" Dawn asked curiously. "My pattern."

"Perfectly symmetrical as befits the Key. Have you noticed anything different since you came back?"

"As a matter of fact..." Dawn rolled up her sleeve of her right arm. "I used to have a scar here," she said, tracing a line along her forearm. "It's gone now."

"Oops. My mistake." Ethan grinned sheepishly. "I never considered scars. Do you mind?"

She shook her head, rolling her sleeve down again. "None of my scars were reminders of really good moments. Having them gone, it's like a physical fresh start."

"Did you have any tattoos or piercings?" As they would be gone too, of course.

"Only my ears. They can be re-done, I'm sure."

"Good," Ethan smiled fondly. "You've lost your highlights too, but I'm sure that can be fixed even more easily. I'll pay for hair and ears, all right?" He could hear footsteps running up the stairs. While all his non-physical senses seemed muted so he couldn't be sure, he dearly hoped it was Rupert. He looked eagerly towards the door.

Sure enough, a second later Rupert appeared in the doorway, looking tired, worried and frantic... until he caught sight of Ethan sitting up against the headboard. Then the most wonderful look of relief crossed his face, and he closed his eyes briefly, muttering something under his breath. A heartbeat later, he was across the room and settling on the bed in the spot that Dawn thoughtfully vacated. He reached out and pulled Ethan into his arms, holding onto him tightly.

Oh yes, this was what he wanted. Ethan closed his eyes and let himself near enough melt against Rupert. "Mmm, needed you. Where were you?"

"Downstairs. On the phone. I had to... It doesn't matter. It can wait." If anything, Rupert's grip on him tightened as if he was afraid Ethan would slip away if he didn't. "You scared the hell out of me."

He must have been out a good few hours to cause this reaction, which would explain why he felt so bloody hungry actually. As he felt Skunk jump up and settle down on the other side of him again and heard Dawn quietly leaving the room, Ethan soothed Rupert's hair with his hands and kissed the side of his head. "I'm sorry, dearheart. Used a little bit too much magic, but for a good cause, no?"

Rupert gave a laugh that had very little humour in it. "I'd say it was a great deal more than a little bit too much. You drained yourself of so much magic and life energy that you were practically translucent."

Oh... but that couldn't be the case. "Come now, you're exaggerating, surely. I feel a little dizzy, for sure, but nothing like how awful I'd feel if what you're saying were true."

"If anything, I'm underestimating your condition. You've been unconscious for three days, Ethan. We've had to give you several lifeforce transfusions. You've had donations from no less than five different people, not including me." Rupert pulled back just enough to meet Ethan's eyes, the truth clear in the green depths of his own. "I was afraid I'd lost you."

Oh. Oh bugger. Ethan looked down, trying to take that in, but... "I... sorry."

Rupert pulled Ethan tight against him again, sending an almost excruciating trickle of magic along Ethan's skin. The fact that so light a touch felt so overwhelming was more proof of what Rupert had just told him.

He moved restlessly within the tight embrace, not for a moment wanting it to stop, just unable to stay still while trying to understand what he'd been told. "Three days? Really? What's been happening? Why am I not dead of thirst?"

"You would drink if water was given to you. That's how I knew you were truly out of it; you're never that pliable when you're awake. We all took it in turns to look after you. I would have done it myself the entire time, but it was pointed out rather forcefully that I wouldn't do you or anyone else any good if I worked myself into the same state you were in. It's rather embarrassing when your Slayers gang up on you and threaten to bodily remove you and make you rest."

There was something about the tightness of Rupert's voice that was provoking unpleasant angsty feelings inside Ethan. "My poor Rupert." Ethan wished he had some reassuring magic to feed him. "I remember waiting for you to come round in the hospital, and that was only, well, less than forty-eight hours. I'm really sorry. I wasn't thinking beyond... Well, I had to bring her back for you. I'd promised, and our fight with the bear had ballsed up my protections around her cache–"

Rupert shook his head, cutting him off. "What you did was a very brave and selfless thing. And it worked, Ethan. You did the impossible. You brought Dawn back. That's not something for which you should apologise."

"Ian..." Ethan stopped and then started again with more certainty in his voice. "Ian helped. Quite vitally."

Rupert was silent for a moment then offered, "That doesn't surprise me."

"When..." He had to ask this, but he pressed his face into the crook of Rupert's neck first in a way that he realised was cowardly. "When we returned, was there... a body?"

"No." One of Rupert's hands came up to stroke Ethan's hair.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. Ian was..."

"My friend. Our friend. And my mentor and our lover. And a bloody hero." And Ethan wouldn't even have a place to go to talk to him, it seemed.

"He was." Rupert dropped a kiss on Ethan's head, his rough stubble scraping Ethan's skin. "All of those things. We can have some sort of memorial service if you wish, perhaps at the cliffs at Devon. Maybe erect some kind of marker."

Ethan nodded, but he didn't really want to talk more about that now. Couldn't really. "How is everyone else? What's been happening? Did we win?"

"That round at least, yes. All of the Chaos hotspots infecting the English countryside have vanished. But..."

The Chaos was gone, but there was a 'but'. Ethan wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Can't I wallow in success for even a few moments?"

"Of course," Rupert said, and Ethan could hear the smile in his voice.

"We did Good, didn't we? Capital 'G' good?" Ethan nuzzled against Rupert hungrily. He wished that Rupert wasn't fully dressed and that he himself didn't have on whatever these unlovely pyjama things were that they seemed to have put him in. "Tell me we saved the world."

"At the very least we saved England." Rupert turned his head and caught Ethan's lips in a long kiss.

Rupert tasted so very good, and while it was frustrating not being able to share magic, it mattered little compared to the sheer physical comfort of being held and loved. A sense of relief was beginning to settle over Ethan. They had done it, their terrible task. Their destiny was completed, and they were free... ah, he was forgetting that 'but', wasn't he?

Frowning, Ethan pulled back. "You better tell me, before I get too contented." Which was a silly word, considering the sense of loss that was hovering, waiting to consume him, but still.

Rupert sighed, but then said, "I received a call from Francesca, taunting and challenging. Only it wasn't quite her."

"What does that mean?" Rupert was looking somewhat haggard, Ethan noticed with a frown. There were dark shadows around his eyes and the unshaven look had always given his Ripper a wild appearance.

"It seems she's been... possessed in a way."

"By wha– oh. Vaurtain. We didn't kill him, did we? Oh bugger." It wasn't over. It would never bloody be over.

"Yes, that sums up my feelings on the subject fairly well," Rupert said wryly.

"We had to free him, didn't we? I mean, he was holding the door open..."

"Yes. Ideally, we should have pushed him back through, but he seemed quite determined not to allow us that chance."

Ethan sighed unhappily. "Rupert, I couldn't fight a crippled gnat currently."

Rupert kissed him again. "You don't need to. We need to find the enemy before we can fight it."

"I see, but all the Chaos blackspots have cleared?"

"Yes. They started dispersing as soon as the portal was closed." Rupert paused. "Which reminds me, there's something else I have to tell you. The cloaked person who came out of the portal? The one who closed it?"

Ethan frowned; his memories of the whole fight were quite sketchy. "He gave me the Key back... I think."

"She," Rupert corrected. "She introduced herself to me as Molly Lovall."

Ethan's frown deepened. "But that's–" He pulled back and stared searchingly at Rupert. "It can't... Dearheart, tell me before I embarrass myself by believing something impossible."

"I never had the pleasure of meeting your grandmother before, so I can't be one hundred percent certain, but," Rupert smiled at him, "her eyes are just like yours." Ethan continued to stare at Rupert, his mind an open wilderness of nothing very much. "Love?" Rupert asked after a moment, touching Ethan's face gently. "Still with me?"

"It's not possible." He moved forward and clung to Rupert. "It's not possible. It's a trick."

"If it is, it's one I haven't been able to see through." Rupert rubbed his back soothingly. It was too much; Ethan shook his head against Rupert's shoulder and said nothing. "Would you like me to bring her here?"

Ethan shook his head more emphatically. He didn't want to see the woman claiming to be Nan. Whatever had happened to her, wherever they'd taken her, she'd be long dead by now.

Rupert smoothed his hand over Ethan's hair and generally did everything he could to be a comforting presence for Ethan. "It's a lot to deal with, especially when you must still be quite drained."

"I'm hungry," Ethan said, because he was, for food and Rupert, but also because it was a change of subject.

Rupert went with it easily, giving him a small smile and asking, "What would you like to eat?"

Ethan managed a smile back. "Lots, but I don't want you to leave. Maybe I could get up?"

That got him an even larger, more genuine smile. "If you feel strong enough. Or," Rupert's eyes sparkled with humour, "I could always revert to carrying you down."

Ethan smiled more fully. "I think we need your backbone in full working order. Er, who's here?" He wanted to make sure he wasn't about to meet strange impostor women.

"At the moment? Just us, Dawn, and the dogs."

Good. Ethan slipped his legs out from under the covers and tested their strength on the floor. He was a little shaky maybe, but not too bad. "I feel remarkably well considering what you told me happened. Slayer lifeforce?"

"Among others." Rupert put a hand on Ethan's arm to steady him. "I believe the final count was three Slayers, a mage, a Key and a one-eyed man."

"Walked into a bar?" Ethan chuckled then paused. "Three Slayers? Who was the third?"

Rupert smiled slightly. "Buffy."

"Buffy?" Ethan gaped at Rupert. "And I was so convinced she'd want to slaughter me where I stood. Well, lay."

"You almost killed yourself bringing Dawn back," Rupert pointed out. "That kind of thing goes a long way with my Slayer."

Ethan noted the possessive, but didn't comment. He turned and wrapped his arms around Rupert. Six people cared enough about him to donate a little of their life. It was hard to conceive, really.

Rupert's arms came around him in return. "It's good to have you back, love," he sighed, and Ethan thought he could feel some of the tension leaving Rupert's form. It had to have been bloody awful for him.

"My poor, poor Rupert. Just let me get my strength back, and I'll make this up to you. How does a week in bed sound?"

"Decadent," Rupert said, slightly dreamily. "And an excellent substitute for heaven."

Chuckling, Ethan squirmed contentedly against Rupert. It wasn't over, their adventure; he knew that. And he had mourning to do, but not yet. He couldn't afford to feel those feelings yet. This was just a respite, but welcome nonetheless. "Maybe we could start after dinner?"

"I should be able to spare a few hours."

From the busy schedule of looking for Frannie, Ethan assumed. Still a few hours were a lot better than nothing. He grinned and pulled back, taking Rupert's hand. "Come on. I'm positively desperate for food that doesn't look like floorboards."

Rupert chuckled. "There goes my first idea for dinner."

***

Giles watched from the corner of his eye as Ethan fed Skunk titbits from his plate. Despite claims of near starvation, Ethan didn't seem to have eaten very much before he'd reached the listless playing with his food stage.

"Do I have to resort to spoon-feeding to get you to eat?" he teased, gently trying to encourage Ethan's appetite.

Ethan looked up with a start as if he'd been lost in thought. He smiled warmly enough at Giles however. "I ate what my body told me it needed. I don't think there's all that much energy around for digesting food currently. A coffee, on the other hand, could go down a treat."

"Caffeine addict," Giles accused fondly. Still, he obligingly got up and headed into the kitchen to make Ethan his coffee. He doubted there was anything that Ethan could ask for just then that he wouldn't try to obtain for him; not with the last three days of fear and worry still so fresh in his mind.

Dawn was next door currently – the Council had commandeered the whole street during the crisis, which Giles wasn't looking forward to having to discuss with his neighbours once they were allowed to return. He and Ethan were alone in the house with the dogs. If Giles tried, he could almost convince himself that it was a year and a half ago, before Devon, when their biggest problem had been Ethan's Chaos addiction.

Well, and a certain Francesca Travers, who was still, it seemed, a major pain in their collective arses.

"Have we any chocolate biscuits?" came from back out in the living room.

"I thought you weren't hungry?" Giles called back, even as he found an unopened pack in the cupboard and started making up a plate.

"That was for proper food."

Giles moved back to the kitchen doorway to look at Ethan while he waited for the coffee to brew. "I'd swear you have the eating habits of a teenager."

Ethan twisted around in his chair to grin at Giles. "You mean I eat like a Slayer?"

"Not necessarily. Xander's eating habits were truly appalling." Giles thought about it. "Actually, they still are."

"I eat like a Xander? Rupert, what a ghastly thing to say to me. I'm cut to the quick. Really." The sparkle of humour in Ethan's eyes was very gratifying to see.

Struck again by exactly how lucky they were to have escaped the Chaos maze with their lives and minds intact, Giles crossed the room and leant over to kiss Ethan lingeringly. Too close. It had been far too close to not having moments like this ever again.

Ethan's hand curled around the back of Giles' neck, staying there even when Giles pulled back a little way. "I want an early night tonight," Ethan said firmly. Giles nodded. There was still a lot to coordinate and do, but the good guys would just have to carry on without him for one evening. Ethan's expression softened at the nod, and his hand moved around to stroke Giles' face. "You need sleep, dearheart."

"I need you," Giles countered, leaning into Ethan's touch.

"You have me." Giles felt the slightest tingle of Ethan's magic in his cheek, before Ethan winced and his hand dropped.

"Don't do that," Giles admonished without heat. He leant in and kissed Ethan again, pouring a stream of his magic through the touch.

Ethan's eyes were closed when Giles drew back the next time, his mouth slightly open. "Rupert..." he murmured then sighed heavily. "We need a holiday. A very long holiday."

"I won't argue the point." He knew though that it was impossible to take more than an evening at the moment.

"Somewhere tropical and gay-friendly, where we can have long nights of dancing, socialising and sex followed by lazy days of indolence, good food and more sex." Ethan smiled dreamily. He stroked his hand over Giles' arm. "Are you going to sit down?"

"I still have to get your coffee."

"Then will you sit down? I can move to the sofa."

Giles pulled back enough to look at Ethan. "I'm hovering, aren't I?" It wasn't really a question.

"I like you close." Ethan stood, just a little unsteadily, and wrapped his arms around Giles. "I just like you more on a level."

Giles' arms went around Ethan automatically in return, partially to steady Ethan on his feet, partly just because he wanted him close as well. He sighed softly, feeling closer to content than he had since, well, since they'd left here for Buckham Hall.

Ethan leant lightly against Giles, relaxing in his arms. Neither of them seemed in any hurry to move from the embrace, so of course, that was when someone knocked at the door. "I probably should get that," Giles said regretfully, pulling back.

Ethan frowned. "There are only certain people I want to see."

"All the more reason for me to answer. If I don't, I'm fairly certain the door will be broken in, because they're worried about us."

Looking on the verge of sulky, Ethan sat back down, this time on the sofa. "Whoever they are, they're not having my choccy biccies." Feeling another surge of affection for Ethan, Giles dropped a kiss on the top of his head before moving to answer the door.

Buffy and Xander were on the other side. Judging by their worried faces, they hadn't seen Dawn yet and didn't know the day's good news. Xander raised his hand in a salute. "Reporting for transfusion duty, sah!"

Giles smiled, both at Xander's attempt at lightening the mood and at the fact that such transfusions were now no longer necessary. "Actually, there's been a change of plans."

Buffy looked sharply at him. "Ethan is... awake?"

"Ethan is sitting in the living room guarding the chocolate biscuits from all comers."

Xander chuckled. "That's my boy. Or rather my older male friend who is not, in any sense, mine."

Buffy was bouncing up and down on her toes, peering beyond Giles into their short lobby. Guessing that Ethan wouldn't mind these visitors, Giles led the way back into the living room. "We have company," he announced unnecessarily to Ethan.

"So I see." Ethan smiled warmly at their guests, although he didn't get up. "I believe I owe you two a considerable debt."

Buffy waved that away. "The way I see it, we're even. Besides," she smiled slightly, "we Scoobies take care of our own."

That inclusion left Ethan quite obviously nonplussed, but before Giles could say anything to cover the pause in conversation, Xander said, "It comes with a membership card, but don't get too excited. All the shops it got you a discount in disappeared down a big hole in southern California a while back."

"Nowadays, we just charge everything to the Council," Buffy added, moving to sit on the sofa beside Ethan. "But there's no membership card for that." She looked up at Giles questioningly. "Is there?"

"Um, no," Giles replied, doing his best to keep a deadpan expression. "I can offer coffee, however?"

"Maybe I could help you with that oh so technical task, boss," Xander said, gesturing towards the kitchen. "I could be chief putting-the-cups-on-the-saucers engineer."

Giles gave Ethan a questioning look; he didn't want to leave Ethan alone with Buffy if he wasn't comfortable, not so soon after he had awakened. ' _I'm all right,_ ' Ethan said mentally, very faintly. He added aloud, "Just keep American fingers off my biccies."

"I would appreciate the help, Xander, thank you," Giles said, smiling at the younger man before heading towards the kitchen. He managed to look back at Ethan only once.

***

Ethan tried not to feel bereft that Rupert was now a whole twenty feet away from him, even though he was acutely aware of the absence. He turned to smile at Buffy. "Are we really even?"

Buffy nodded, expression serious. "You saved Dawn."

She wouldn't have needed saving if... well, Buffy knew that. No point in saying it. Ethan reached out to pat Buffy's leg, but changed his mind at the last moment as he wasn't sure that you patted the legs of Senior Slayers. So he just said, "Ian helped."

It only seemed to faze Buffy briefly, and she didn't question the statement, merely insisted, "That doesn't make what you did any less."

He tried out several answers in his head before finally saying, "I'm glad she's all right." This conversation felt very awkward, and Ethan wasn't even sure why.

"Thank you." She seemed to feel just as awkward as he did.

"How did you get here?" he asked after a pause. "Not via Heathrow, I assume."

"I've got an ex with a private jet. Talked him into lending it to me. And, you know, a pilot." Buffy paused then offered, "I'm sorry about Ian."

Ethan looked down. "He was rather looking forward to what, who, he believed awaited him after death."

"And you're not sure if he's got what he wanted?" Buffy asked.

"I'd like to think he has," Ethan replied carefully, wondering if he really wanted to talk to Buffy about such things, although thinking about it, she had first hand experience of the afterlife. He looked at her, trying to keep the fierce need to know from his face. "Do you remember what, well..."

"What Heaven was like?" She smiled, her expression bittersweet. "Yes."

"I don't mean to pry, but if you feel able to... talk about it, I'd, well..." He gave Buffy an exasperated smile, acknowledging how difficult this was for both of them.

Buffy didn't answer right away, and when she did, her voice was softer, almost reverent. "It's... perfection. You feel absolute love, absolute acceptance. There's no doubt, or fears, or anything bad. It's... you know those perfect moments of happiness and contentment that you get sometimes? The kind that never last longer than it takes to think it? It's like that, except there it doesn't end. You always feel that way."

Ethan had had a lot of those moments since Rupert had rescued him, but he couldn't quite imagine them lasting continuously. "Didn't you get bored? No longing for variety?"

"Variety from Heaven?" Buffy asked dryly. "No, perfect happiness was working for me. Of course I was only there for three months..."

Ethan would have thought perfection would get boring after a while. Life needed some chiaroscuro to appreciate its finer attributes, but maybe that was the point – Heaven wasn't life, and the same rules didn't apply. "Did you see anyone you knew?"

She shook her head. "It didn't really work like that. I didn't really have normal human senses. But..." Her voice got quiet again. "I felt my mom."

Ethan's thoughts seemed to slip and slide as he tried to decide what that meant for Ian. He found himself wondering instead whom he'd get to 'feel' in that way if he proved redeemed enough to get to Heaven, which was highly debatable even now. Nan, he supposed. He frowned at the knowledge that there was someone here impersonating her, apparently next door in the Opies' house.

He should talk to Rupert about that really, have the impostor questioned and divined. Considering where they'd found her, she was surely up to no good.

Maybe he'd discuss it with Rupert later.


	2. Chapter 2

A few hours later, Ethan was lying in bed with Rupert in blissful warmth and comfort. Not only had he not asked about the impostor, he was also consciously trying not to think of the matter at all. He moved against Rupert restlessly. "When I close my eyes, I'm still walking through endless, unchanging corridors."

"You're not." Rupert's arms tightened around him, his hands skimming over Ethan's back in soothing motions, their very movement conveyed some of Rupert's own restlessness. "You're home. We're home."

"For a little while."

Rupert sighed, his breath warm against Ethan's skin. "For now. That's all we can ever plan on for certain."

"I need more than that, Rupert." Ethan shut his eyes, knowing this was a futile and almost cruel direction in which to take the conversation. "Ignore me. I'm just tired."

"You're still recovering," Rupert said softly, the words holding unspoken emotion.

"Yes." Abruptly, Ethan remembered how depressed he'd become after drawing on his own lifeforce to save Rupert after the attack on the train. "Dearheart, am I free of Chaos taint?" he asked worriedly. He couldn't sense it in himself, but he couldn't sense anything very much currently.

"Completely and totally," was the gratifyingly quick answer.

He relaxed again. "That's good. I hate not having access to my pattern senses."

Rupert nuzzled against him. "They'll come back. You just need to regain your strength."

"I know, but when have you ever known me to be patient?" Ethan opened his eyes and grinned, but while he got a faint smile and a kiss as a reward, Rupert's eyes held pain. "What are you fretting about, dearheart?" he asked softly. Was there something to fret about beyond the obvious?

Rupert shook his head. "I'm just glad to have you back."

"Three days of worry on top of everything else we've been through must have been the last straw for you. Poor Ripper. What can I do to make you feel better?" Ethan pressed closer and ran his hand down Rupert's flank. He was genuinely very tired, but he was sure he could manage something nice.

"Just having you here awake and aware is enough."

"What if I want to give you more than enough? We could all do with a bit of surplus."

"I don't want you to exhaust yourself." Rupert's body language was less reticent however.

"I won't. Don't you think this will do me as much good as you?" Ethan wiggled against Rupert before pushing him gently on his back. Rupert reached up and slid a hand down the side of Ethan's face, giving Ethan a look of such yearning that it took his breath away. "God," Ethan muttered, sliding over the top of Rupert and enjoying the feel of their skin touching. He raised himself slightly on his folded arms and legs, before bending for a kiss.

Rupert kissed him back, gently at first, but with increasing intensity and desperation.

"I'm here," Ethan murmured as he pulled back briefly. "I wouldn't leave you, Ripper. I couldn't."

Rupert stared at him for a long moment then pulled Ethan even closer, holding onto him so tightly that Ethan rather thought he'd wake up with bruises in the morning. He kissed Rupert, trying to soothe him with touch and kisses while cursing his current lack of magic.

"Forever, remember?" he said between kisses. "That's us."

"Don't ever–" Rupert began, but cut off when his voice broke, kissing Ethan breathless instead.

Ethan tore himself free, concerned. "Don't ever what?"

Rupert's gaze darted everywhere but Ethan's eyes. "I thought... you were comatose. You should've been dead. No one knew when you'd wake up, if ever. I thought..." Rupert's voice dropped even more, "I feared that our bond, my presence, had trapped you like that – beyond recovery, but unable to die. I–"

Bugger. Ethan stared in total shock. "Rupert, I..." He hadn't a clue what to say.

"Don't ever do that again," Rupert begged, finally meeting Ethan's eyes, his own gaze haunted. "I don't think I could– Just don't."

Christ, this was awful. "I'm sorry. I thought I... I thought I was doing what you wanted, what you needed. I didn't want you to feel like Dawn's murderer for the rest of your life. I was trying to" –he had to laugh at himself– "trying to protect you, trying to keep you from pain."

That drew a ghost of a smile from Rupert. "I know. And what you did, it's a very good thing. I will never say that it isn't, but–"

That little smile was a large relief. "I won't do that to you again, Rupert. I promise. I keep my promises these days, pretty much, if you hadn't noticed. Well, more or less." Ethan pressed soft kisses into Rupert's face. "No more risk-taking with us, eh?"

Rupert's eyes closed under Ethan's attentions, and Ethan could feel the tension easing in the man's body. He licked and kissed around Rupert's neck, coming up to whisper in his ear. "Would you like to be inside me, dearheart? Where you belong? I'd offer the other way around, but I don't think I'm quite up to that today. But it would be good, having you inside me. Healing."

Rupert raised a hand and lightly traced Ethan's features as he asked, "Are you really up to it? I don't want you to overdo it–"

"Having you inside me would do me more good than three solid days of rest. Don't you know yet that you're all I need?" Ethan rolled off Rupert and onto his back. "Come on. Don't let me get cold without you here." Rupert followed willingly enough, covering Ethan's body with his own and going back to kissing him with his entire being.

Ethan opened his legs and drew them up to either side of Rupert's, but other than that, he tried to let Rupert take things at his own pace. The kiss was hard and hungry, and being needed so powerfully was a heady aphrodisiac. Ethan moaned softly into the kiss and squirmed below Rupert, but he didn't demand.

Rupert's hands slid down Ethan's arms, trailing magic behind them. He entwined his fingers with Ethan's then tugged lightly, pulling until Ethan's arms were stretched over his head. All the while, he continued kissing him. Ethan kept his eyes shut, relishing the touch of flesh and magic. He recognised the mood Rupert was in, the desire for control obviously stemming from the insecurity Ethan's near-death had brought on. Ethan was quite happy to revert to ecstatic helplessness if it made Rupert feel better.

Slipping his fingers under the headboard and holding onto it, he murmured, "So good to be back in our bed. Our real bed."

"Didn't like that monstrosity Matthew had put in my boyhood room?" Rupert teased in between more kisses.

"The curtain thingies were all right," Ethan said, tipping his head back as Rupert kissed down his throat. "But this bed is... Well, it has memories woven into the fabric of the mattress."

"Would you have us out searching for that broken-down mattress from our old flat if it still existed?" Rupert sounded genuinely curious, even as he nipped at Ethan's Adam's apple.

Oh God, probably. "I think I'll decline to answer that." Ethan chuckled softly as Rupert lapped within the hollow of his breastbone, something Ethan loved. "I know I've always had a touch of sentimentality when I'm not specialising in bitter and twisted, but since gaining awareness of patterns, it's more than just that. Our patterns weave through this bed. They do everything we've touched, but they're strong here."

"This is where we made a new start," Rupert agreed. "Or, I suppose it started downstairs on the sofa..."

Ethan chuckled, remembering that day vividly. "But you took me up here, and I was so sodding proud when I managed to get something approaching an erection. You saved me in every sense, dearest of dear ones."

Rupert chuckled, moving lower, dropping kisses along the line of Ethan's collarbone. "All that effort you had been putting into being a saint had to be rewarded somehow."

More laughter. "It didn't exactly come naturally." Ethan stretched and wriggled his body below Rupert. "Going somewhere?"

"Nowhere you won't like." Rupert nipped gently at one of Ethan's nipples and then ran his tongue over it, adding a touch of magic.

"Ahh." Ethan shut his eyes for a few seconds as the sensations travelled through him. His fingers tightened under the headboard. "Oh, that feels good."

Rupert lifted his head and considered Ethan's expression. "How do you feel about magical nipple clamps?"

"Er, nothing else?" He had to check, although he so wanted to make Rupert happy currently that he could probably be persuaded into even the bastard cock ring.

"That depends on if you can keep your hands where they are without restraints."

Ethan grinned, suddenly feeling extremely aroused. "I have no objection to magical cuffs or clamps. It's only the cock ring I find... unfair." Because there was no way to resist it, the use of it meant the struggle was over before it had begun.

"I'll keep that in mind." Rupert pulled back and brushed his fingers over Ethan's nipples, leaving his magic behind when he moved them away.

An ache was starting inside Ethan, low and nagging, but very pleasant. His nipples throbbed, making him aware of them in a way he never was normally. He writhed slowly, just enjoying the sensation of his skin sliding under Rupert's.

"Love you like this," Rupert murmured, sprinkling kisses over Ethan's abdomen. "So alive..."

"You fill me with life." Ethan cringed a little, hearing himself spout sentimental rubbish fit for a Hallmark card, but the words were true nonetheless, and not just on a metaphorical level. Rupert's magic seemed to be calling to Ethan's own. He could feel it stirring within him, coming back to life.

Rupert grinned wickedly at him. "Oh, I'm going to fill you all right."

Ethan groaned. "Oh please. I want you in every part of me, every cell." That wasn't completely figurative either. Continuing his downward explorations, Rupert trailed kisses and magic over Ethan's thighs, so close but never actually touching Ethan's most needy places. "Cruel Ripper. Shall I beg?"

"You could if it makes you feel better."

Ethan wriggled in a way designed to bring the parts of him that desperately needed kissing closer to Rupert's mouth, but he kept his arms stretched above his head obediently. He did his very best to beg prettily. "Don't you want to make me happy, Ripper? Don't you want to give me what I so desperately need? I'm starving for you. See me writhing for your touch? Please, dearheart. Please."

"Maybe I like watching you writhe," Rupert replied, smiling as he trailed magic down Ethan's legs with his fingertips.

So he writhed like a good boy; he didn't exactly have to fake it. "You just know that being patient is torture for me, worse than any pain."

Rupert pressed a kiss first to one inner thigh, then the other. "I don't want to rush," he said softly, voice suddenly more serious. "For three days I wasn't sure I'd get to do this again. I want to savour it."

Ethan felt himself relax without conscious decision to do so. "Take all the time you need." He smiled softly down at Rupert, who stared at him for a moment then slid back up his body to claim his mouth in a deep, lingering, somewhat desperate kiss.

Ethan kissed him back, not liking this inability to feed Rupert soothing magic. Although he could feel his power responding to Rupert's... perhaps he could find a little now? Tentatively, he drew sparingly from the source inside of him and let Rupert taste it on his lips. Yes. It no longer hurt to do so.

Rupert moaned into the kiss at the touch of Ethan's magic, but then pulled back. "Don't. I don't want you straining yourself or over-extending–"

"I'm all right," Ethan insisted. "At the slightest sign of pain or dizziness, I'll stop. I promise."

Running his fingers lightly over Ethan's face, Rupert looked at him as if he were trying to memorise what he was seeing, as if he were trying to see Ethan's soul. "I don't want to lose you, even if it's only for three days."

God, Rupert's pain hurt, and this was exactly what Ethan had wanted to avoid. "I couldn't leave you, Rupert. Truly. If my body were to be destroyed, I'd be your benevolent ghost. I'm in you as you're in me. Our patterns are so linked that we can't be separated; we really can't."

"Difficult to touch a ghost," Rupert murmured, his gaze falling.

"We'd find a way," Ethan said heatedly. "They can't keep us apart. Not now."

That finally pulled a smile from Rupert. "I think I like you fierce like this."

Ethan shifted restlessly. "May I move my hands please? I can put them back afterwards. Let me show you I'm not a ghost?" Rupert nodded, and with a grateful if slightly ironic smile, Ethan wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and stroking over his back. Pressing kisses wherever there was space to press them, Ethan murmured, "I'm here. I'm going nowhere. I can't do this for long, not at the moment, but I think you need to see. Look at this. Look at our bond."

And with that, he granted Rupert pattern sight for a few precious seconds before collapsing back into the pillow.

"What did I just say about overextending yourself?" Rupert grumbled at him, even as his hands smoothed over Ethan, pouring his magic into him. He leant in and kissed Ethan gently, reverently. "But thank you."

"Did you see?" Ethan asked as he closed his eyes, waiting for the giddiness to stop. "See how bonded we are? It's stronger now, after the maze, even than before. They can't divide us, Rupert. I promise. It's just not possible."

"I saw. Just don't do that again until you're stronger."

Ethan frowned. "I will if I think you need it."

Rupert lifted an eyebrow. "Do I have to do the magical equivalent of hiding your cane?"

That made Ethan chuckle. "I'll behave." He stretched his arms back up above his head. "And if I don't, I'm sure you can work out a suitable punishment."

"I'm sure I can," Rupert agreed readily, starting to slowly slide back down Ethan's body. He looked up with a wicked grin. "I do, after all, have access to an 'unfair' advantage."

***

Ripper paced the length of the small flat, getting more irritated by the minute. Ethan was late. Ethan was often late, being easily distracted by anything shiny that crossed his path, but not like this. This time Ethan was very late on the order of several hours after when Ripper had been expecting him.

Ripper was just beginning to wonder if he should check the local cop shops to see if Ethan had been pinched for one of his grab and run shopping sprees, when he finally heard footsteps coming up the stairs to their flat door.

The footsteps seemed slow and heavy, or perhaps dragging. There was a sound at the door, which then clicked and slowly opened. Ethan stumbled through and then a few feet inside, leaving the door open. He was moving as if he were very drunk, which just made Ripper even more irritated. He'd been sitting here worrying, and Ethan had been out getting rat-arsed?

"You're late," Ripper said coldly.

Not so drunk he hadn't wrapped up warm; Ethan had his coat done up high and his scarf swathed around his face. It muffled his voice when he spoke. "Ran into a spot of trouble." He staggered towards the area of the flat that held their bed.

Ripper crossed the room to close the still open door. "Looks more like you ran into a crate of whisky." Ethan laughed at that, the sound too loud and harsh in their quietened flat. It ended in a cough. He lay down on the bed, still swathed in outdoor clothes. Ripper stared at him for a moment, but when it was obvious that Ethan wasn't going to move anymore, he crossed over to the bed to undress him. "You can't pass out with your coat still on," he said gruffly.

"Leave me be, Ripper," Ethan said thickly, rolling to his side. He began to mutter under his breath.

"Would serve you right if I did," Ripper replied, frowning. The muttering Ethan was doing sounded vaguely familiar somehow. He grabbed for Ethan's scarf.

"Don't!" Ethan's hand clamped down on Rupert's; it was un-gloved and cold and had a large bruise with a cut in the centre of it across its back.

Ripper's entire perception of the scene suddenly shifted. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Spot of trouble. Told you. Let me do this. It hurts." Ethan went back to his muttering – Latin, Ripper now realised - Ethan's dodgy healing magic.

Ripper once again reached for the scarf. "Let me see," he said implacably. Ethan groaned, but stopped resisting, stopped muttering too. He rolled onto his back again and looked dully up. That more than anything else alarmed Ripper, although he was careful to be as gentle as he could be when he finally pulled the scarf back from Ethan's face.

There was a huge and puffy bruise disfiguring the left side of Ethan's jaw and a trickle of dried blood from the corner of his mouth. There was also blood in the hair near his right temple. He smiled at Ripper in a humourless and lop-sided way. "Trouble, see?"

"Who did this?"

Ethan shrugged and then winced; it was clear the damage extended to more than just his face and hands. "May I heal myself now, please?"

Ripper nodded. "This conversation isn't over," he warned as he got up and walked to their small bathroom to wet down a flannel to help clean up Ethan. It took him two tries to turn on the tap; his hands were shaking so with rage. Someone had hurt Ethan. Someone had kicked the shit out of him it looked like, and that wasn't something Ripper was going to let just happen.

When he got back to the bed, Ethan's eyes were shut. He was twitching as he muttered, and there was a sheen of sweat on his face. Ripper recognised all this from when he'd seen Ethan heal himself previously, and from the itchy sensation of Ethan's power around him. Eventually, the bruises started to fade and the swelling diminish. The mumbling stopped, and Ethan's eyes opened; they were red and swirling for a few seconds, but that too faded.

"Better," he said slightly breathlessly, a wolfish grin curving his repaired lips.

Ripper sat beside Ethan and began gently cleaned the dried blood from his face. "Tell me what happened."

"Wandered in the wrong area." Ethan sat up and started unbuttoning his coat. His bruises now looked old and painless. "Careless of me. Sorry."

"Details, Ethan," Ripper demanded. "I want details."

"Does it matter? All better now." Shrugging out of his coat, Ethan then busied himself with his boots, the tasks taking all his attention.

"It matters." Ripper brushed Ethan's hands away and pulled the now unfastened boots off. "It matters because no one gets to thrash you like that. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Shame you weren't there then, wasn't–" Ethan stopped and looked down briefly. "It seems to have left me in a... difficult mood."

"Not surprising. And yeah, it was a shame I wasn't there, which is why I need you to tell me what happened so I can track down the tosser and live up to my name."

"Tossers plural," Ethan corrected. "I didn't really see them."

"Details," Ripper said again. "Where was this? What happened?"

Ethan waved his hand about airily. "Soho, near Chinatown. I was hiding from some shop fuzz. Hid in the wrong place, obviously. Have we food?" He started to get off the bed.

"Leftover takeaway in the fridge," Ripper replied, but continued doggedly on in the apparently difficult task of finding out exactly what had happened. "How many were there?"

"Three? Four?" Ethan slid from the bed and headed for their kitchen area. "Really, Ripper, does it matter?"

"I already told you it does." He frowned. Ethan was being overly reluctant talking about this, which was totally out of character. Usually he couldn't wait for Ripper to avenge and protect him. "What is it you aren't telling me?"

Ethan paused and glanced round at him. "Why would I not tell you anything?"

"That's my question."

Ethan gave a little laugh, which sounded nervous to Ripper, and walked back over to him, stepping close and running his hand over Ripper's chest. "I'm just embarrassed, that's all. I shouldn't have let my guard down."

Ripper raised a hand and gently touched the faded bruise on Ethan's face. "Tell me what happened? Please?"

Ethan looked down. "I stole some stuff from Selfridges, but got spotted. I ran into Soho, but the store detectives were persistent. So I ducked down a side alley. Then I... You know, I really don't want to talk about it." Turning, Ethan hurried for the kitchen.

Ripper let out his breath. "Right then." He stooped and picked up Ethan's scarf, fingers going to the bloodstains on it. "You don't have to talk about it. There's other ways for me to find out."

Ethan froze with the fridge door half-open. "What other ways?"

"Proxer's Eye of Farseeing," Ripper said as he settled himself on the mattress.

"No."

"No?"

He heard the fridge door shut, and then Ethan came back out into the main area of their open plan flat. "Just let it drop, Rupert. Please."

"I can't," Ripper told him. "Not when you come home looking like that."

"I'm fine now. I would've done the spell before I got home, but it was too cold. I couldn't concentrate."

"Ethan, someone did that to you. I can't just let that go." He frowned. "You've never wanted me to before."

Ethan gave him an earnest look. "This is different. I... You can't protect me from everything."

"Won't know that for sure until I try."

Even though Ethan was many feet away, Ripper could see that he was shaking. His arms were wrapped around himself as if cold. He looked at Ripper and seemed... defeated. "I went home."

It took a few seconds for the import of that statement to sink in. When it did, Ripper was torn between comforting Ethan and immediately going out and tracking his lover's bastard of a father down and expressing his... displeasure. The look on Ethan's face tipped the balance for now, and Ripper crossed over and pulled him close.

"I don't even know why I went," Ethan said as he buried his face in the crook of Ripper's neck.

"A moment of diehard optimism?" Ripper suggested softly. "Doesn't matter why, you should be able to go home without being beaten."

"He was drunk, as usual. He didn't like my eyeliner. I thought it was discreet enough that he wouldn't notice." Ethan snorted. "I'm a glutton."

"More like he's a bloody sadist." Ripper kissed Ethan gently. "Nothing you did, love."

Ethan sniffed. "Got born, didn't I? That was enough. If he's a sadist, I'm a masochist. I keep going back, even when I know–"

"You keep hoping that it'll change. That he'll change."

Ethan looked up and gave Ripper a grimace of a smile. "You see, he's meant to love me."

"There's something wrong with him if he can't." Ripper's heart ached for Ethan. "I love you."

That won him a small smile, but then Ethan looked down, raking his fingers down Ripper's chest painfully. "I'm glad we'll never have kids. Glad I'll never let his bastard genes pass on. His line stops with me, and he hates that, but he hates me more." Now that Ethan was finally talking, he didn't seem to want to stop. "He's so ashamed of me, of what he sees in me, of what he knows is in him." For a moment, Ripper thought Ethan meant his sexuality, but then Ethan muttered, "He told me today I looked just like her, that I was scum just like her. I thanked him and said it was the nicest thing he'd ever said to me. 'Cause it was. Then he hit me."

"Her?" Ripper asked gently, swallowing his anger until a time when he could direct it where it was deserved.

"My nan."

Ah. Filing away that new titbit of knowledge about Ethan, Ripper kissed him again. "He's a complete and utter git. The only good thing he's ever done is father you."

"Least he actually noticed I existed," Ethan muttered. "Mum ne– Can I eat now? The spell, it leaves me peckish." Ripper nodded, letting Ethan go. After grabbing the leftovers from the fridge, Ethan sat down on the sofa with the obvious intent of eating them all. He paused between cartons. "I think a part of him does, you know."

"Does what?" Ripper asked, moving to sit beside him and steal one of the cartons.

Ethan chewed and swallowed before replying. "Love me. In his own stupid way. That's why he tries so hard to make me what he thinks I should be."

Privately, Ripper wasn't so sure, but he would never say so to Ethan. "I love you the way you are."

Leaning into Ripper and nuzzling, Ethan said rather sappily, "Then I'll never change so you always do." He chuckled softly to himself.

"I won't let him hurt you again," Ripper vowed, wrapping a protective arm around Ethan.

"He can't hurt me anyway, not while I have you." Ethan, by now looking thoroughly cheerful, grinned at Ripper before filling his mouth with a large forkful of noodles.

"You looked pretty hurt when you staggered in here. That's not going to happen again."

Ethan shifted uneasily. "Is that an order not to go home anymore?"

Ripper shook his head. "None of this is your fault, love. Not going to punish you because of it."

Ethan's shoulder shrugged under Ripper's arms. "Dunno why I go anyway. I've got everything I need here."

Ripper leant in and kissed him. "Including protection. I promise you, he won't hurt you again."

"What does that mean?" Ethan asked sharply. "I don't want you near him, Ripper."

"He'd find it a bit harder to hit me."

"No." Ethan pulled back and glared. "You get to have me, present and future, but my past you leave alone. How would you feel if I offered to bespell your father?"

"My father isn't a threat to me anymore," Ripper insisted, not willing to just let this go. "Yours obviously is."

"Only if I go back, and then on my head be it. Really. Drop this one. Please, Ripper."

"He could've killed you."

Ethan was so tense now he was shaking again. His jaw was clenched when he said, "No. He wouldn't."

Ripper continued on implacably, although it was difficult in the face of Ethan's obvious pain. "You saying you think he's so completely in control when he's hitting you that there's no way he could hit you too hard without meaning to?"

Obviously upset, Ethan stood and began to move restlessly around the flat. "Hasn't killed me yet, has he? He's been doing this for years, Ripper. Years when you weren't there to protect me, when no one was. I know how to handle him, know what to do to make sure he calms down quickly once he's started. And if all else fails, there's always magic."

"You shouldn't have to."

Ethan didn't even seem to hear him. "You keep curled up, eyes averted, saying nothing, just taking it passively. No tears, but no stubborn refusal to make a noise either. Give him just what he wants, but no more. Never lasts all that long if you don't make a nuisance of yourself."

That broke Ripper's heart to hear and made him all the more enraged at the same time. "Ethan, you shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing," he said, trying again to break through.

"Yeah." Ethan paused in his pacing. "Yeah, should've given it up when you gave up your studies and nasty corduroy. You're right. I won't go back." He darted back to the sofa and knelt beside it, laying his forehead on Ripper's thighs. "I'm sorry. I know it upsets you. I won't go back."

"Don't, love," Ripper begged as he gently stroked his fingers through Ethan's hair. "Don't apologise for what he did to you, and certainly not to me."

Ethan moved into the touch. "I know he's a bastard. You know, I know. It's just... well... He's the only family I have left now Mum's in the hospice, and it doesn't mean a whole lot, but I always liked him better than her. He's all right when he's sober, but she was never anything but a bitch. Nan was the nice one, but they took her long ago."

Ripper continued stroking Ethan's hair since it seemed to be calming him. "You've got me."

Ethan looked up at that and smiled. "You're all I need."


	3. Chapter 3

"She's late." Ethan could feel a headache forming from how tightly he was holding his jaw muscles. He set his lips in a hard line and began to pace around the front room.

Rupert was frowning at him; Ethan wasn't sure why. Perhaps having talked Ethan into this meeting, Rupert was now having second thoughts himself about insisting that this was something they needed to deal with – 'this' being the person claiming to be Molly Lovall, Ethan's grandmother. She had apparently been somewhat reticent with information sharing so far; it seemed she 'needed to talk with her grandson' first. Well, there was no grandson of hers here, so Ethan couldn't see why she didn't just sod off.

Maybe she had. The thought made him smile meanly, but no, why would such an obvious trap leave before delivering its payload? "We could've been finished with this stupidity by now if she'd been on time. After all, how long can it take for me to read her pattern and tell her to bugger off before I kick her halfway across London?"

"Have you considered that she might be who she says she is?" Rupert asked with aggravating calm.

"Not possible."

"I've learnt that that phrase is rarely true."

Oh, sometimes even now Rupert was infuriating. Ethan turned abruptly towards his husband to answer with what he considered was appropriate sharpness, but accidentally kicked Skunk in doing so. She yelped and whined and looked at him with big accusing eyes.

She'd been following his steps too closely. Skunk had been a little clingy since Ethan had woken from days of unconsciousness, which had been preceded, of course, by him dropping her to the floor as the maze had captured him. He couldn't blame his dog for the clinginess and didn't mind it, but now he'd hurt her in his frustration.

Crouching, he set about soothing his most loyal of hounds. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm a bad human."

"Why don't you come and sit down?" Rupert bade. "I'll see if I can't distract you."

After a brief hesitation, Ethan obeyed, sitting close to Rupert on the couch. Skunk jumped up to the other side, obviously feeling she hadn't had enough in the way of apologies. He petted her some more. "What are you proposing?" he asked Rupert.

"Well, there's this for starters." Rupert took Ethan's hand and began feeding him magic, something he'd been doing at the slightest opportunity ever since Ethan had awakened, and Ethan certainly wasn't objecting.

He let himself lean against Rupert, saying softly, "That's nice. If she's not coming, we could go to bed."

Rupert chuckled. "That might be a bit more distraction than I had planned currently."

"Plans can be rewritten," Ethan said, smirking. He ran his hand up Rupert's leg and urged, "Give in to impulse." Giddy lifted his head in his basket and barked as if in agreement, and Ethan grinned at the dog, but then his spirits fell as there was a knock on the door.

"Perhaps later," Rupert said, removing Ethan's hand from his leg as he stood.

Rupert disappeared into the lobby, and Ethan heard the door opening and voices conversing. He stood up again, wanting very much to disappear into the study... and then out into the back garden, over the fence and away. But he stood still and waited. Of course, he did.

A moment later Rupert came back, escorting an old woman in a blue coat whom Ethan didn't want to look at too closely... which became difficult when she came forward, reaching for him, a smile on her all too familiar face. "Now, would you look at you? Mi yokki chavo, all grown up." Ethan backed off in a hurry until the back of his legs hit the coffee table, and he nearly fell over.

Skunk barked nervously, looking between Ethan and the woman in obvious confusion. Ethan couldn't take the time to soothe her; he was too busy not looking at the stranger's face. Her voice was bad enough; it hit him with a force that winded. "Don't you dare use words you have no right to use," he managed to wheeze.

"It's a sad thing when evil turns us all to suspicion," the woman continued implacably, in the same painfully familiar affectionate voice with its hint of humour.

Ethan had forgotten that humour, or rather had not really been aware of it when young, but yet somehow now remembered it... no. Bugger that. "It's a typical thing when evil uses vulnerabilities to manipulate."

The woman stopped where she was and put her hands on her hips. "You have ways to allay your fears, camo, if you will just look."

"No. Rupert, make her go." His courage failed; Ethan whirled around, more or less running for the study.

He wanted to keep going, out the door and into the night, but he forced himself to stop when he reached the safety of the other room. A moment later, there were footsteps behind him, and he turned into Rupert's embrace. Without thought, Ethan clung, burying his face in his favourite place for comfort.

"I can't do this."

"You can." Rupert rubbed Ethan's back soothingly, adding just a bit of magic to his touch. "What are you afraid of, love? That it isn't her? Or that it is?"

"Both," Ethan finally admitted to himself. "She... you don't... You couldn't understand."

"It's about family," Rupert said softly. "Connection. I understand."

"She was all I had, and she left me."

"And now she's come back." He gently nuzzled Ethan. "Just like I did."

Ethan looked up, searching Rupert's eyes for... something. He could feel himself trembling as he asked, "How am I meant to stay strong in the face of this?"

"You've got me," Rupert answered simply, and Ethan had a sudden incongruous flash of memory from their youth, of resting his head on Ripper's thigh while gentle fingers stroked his hair.

He moved into the ghost fingers. "I can't... I can't afford to be that child again. Not now. Not ever."

"Doesn't mean you can't be with your family when you need to." Rupert touched Ethan's cheek then leant in for a brief kiss. "As you keep telling me."

Ethan screwed up his face and turned away. He didn't know how to explain. How could he let this woman in if she were his nan? How could he do that without becoming the hurt, deserted child again? How could he accept that she'd been alive all this time enduring God knows what in a Chaos dimension? He just couldn't afford to let it be her.

"Talk to me, Ethan," Rupert encouraged gently.

He looked helplessly back, shaking his head slightly. Taking Rupert's hands, Ethan lifted them and held them to either side of his own head. "I'm not sure I've ever needed total telepathy more."

Rupert leant in and kissed him again, letting more magic flow from his fingers. 'This better?' His voice sounded in Ethan's head, not as clearly as it usually did, but definitely 'audible'.

Ethan closed his eyes. It was obvious there was no running away from this. "Would you... Would you leave while I talk to her?"

There was a bare second's hesitation before Rupert said, "If you want me to."

"I..." Ethan smiled wanly. "I don't know how to be your Ethan and hers at the same time."

Rupert smiled back, eyes bright with affection. "You're always my Ethan, but if it will be easier for you, I'll stay in here. Or would you rather I take Gwydion for a walk...?"

"Take Giddy." Ethan nodded. "And a Slayer."

Rupert opened his mouth, but then closed it again without saying anything. He kissed Ethan again. "All right. I'll take my cell phone as well; call if you need me."

Nodding again, Ethan managed a tight smile. "I will."

One more kiss and Rupert was moving away, back into the living room, calling Gwydion to him, and Ethan had to stop himself staggering. Christ, he needed to pull himself together. After all this, it wouldn't be her, and he'd be alone with the trap he'd originally suspected. He waited until he heard the front door close and then walked slowly back out into the living room, every step feeling heavily weighted.

The old woman was kneeling with an unexpected flexibility beside Skunk, scratching behind the dog's ears. Skunk's tail was wagging so hard her whole hindquarters moved. The woman had unruly thick grey hair and a slight stoop. Silently, and knowing somewhere deep just what he would find, Ethan reached out with his wounded pattern senses and touched her. He hadn't known how to do this as a small child, but somehow he knew exactly what his grandmother's patterns would feel like, so like his own.

It was her.

It was her, and he had no idea now what to do or say.

"You can come closer," she said without looking up, although Ethan could tell she was smiling. "I still only bite those who deserve it."

He did as he was bid; it was easier than thinking. "I didn't know. I wouldn't have... have left you there in that... prison, not if I'd known."

She did look up now, her smile bright and full of affection as she reached out a hand to him; her skin was dark and old, like aging parchment. "How could you have known, mi camo? You were such a slight thing then, little more than skinny limbs and a pair of eyes so big they could draw down the moon." Her fingers closed around his, and her smile grew warmer still.

Her words, the sound of her voice, were as familiar and evocative as, oh Christmas carols in the street or the smell of roasting meat. "I dreamt of you over the years," Ethan admitted. "Not all that often, but whenever I really needed to, each dream... each dream a blessing. Oh Nan, Nana...."

She stood up and hugged him, all in one graceful motion. She only came up to his shoulder. "I always said you'd grow as tall as a tree," she said with a chuckle that seemed to hold more than just humour. "You had to grow into your power, learn yourself, let the destiny settle around you as the costume you were always meant to wear. And you have. It looks good on you, my boy."

He kissed the top of her head, the brief experience feeling somehow more unreal than the whole of the time spent in the maze taken together. "I don't know what to say." He didn't know what to think. "What did... all that time imprisoned in Chaos. How did you...?"

"It suited the devil to keep me alive and well. Gypsy luck, eh?"

"Why?" Much as Ethan didn't want to know, he knew he had to.

"Because he needed me. You're not the only one with powers, camo. Happens he found me more than useful."

"Oh." So he'd used her? For what? Later, that could wait. There was something else he had to know now. "Did Dad... was it him who gave you...?"

"Oh no," Molly assured him. "My son would never have even admitted such a thing as Vaurtain was possible, so determined he was to see with only his eyes. No, it was mostly my own fault. To speak of Wafodu Guero is to conjure him, no? I'd been pondering on an interesting dukkipen I'd spread for you and drew attention unwisely."

Well, that was something at least. His father had been a bastard, but not so much a one as would sell his own mother into slavery, it seemed. "I don't have the faintest idea what those Rom phrases mean, you know," Ethan admitted sheepishly. "What's a duckie-pen?"

"A foreseeing, a reading. I was looking at what fortune had in store for my canny little grandson." She smiled a bit ruefully. "Even after all these years the old tongue still comes easier sometimes than English."

"Do you want to sit down?" Ethan asked, finally remembering he was playing host to an elderly woman, albeit nowhere near as elderly as she should be. "A cup of tea maybe?"

"Tea would be lovely, especially tea with company. There's much I want to hear. I've watched you, when allowed, but it's not the same as being there."

"That must have been... diverting," Ethan said dryly, rapidly shutting down multiple avenues of thought concerning what she would have witnessed.

"It was better than Coronation Street," Molly replied, deadpan.

Laughing, as he'd never been able to maintain embarrassment long, Ethan headed for the kitchen. "Supplies are limited until London returns to something approaching normal, but tea we have. I can probably manage something in the sandwich line too, if you dare risk it." Try as he might, he couldn't dredge up a single memory about what she liked to eat.

"Don't set anything on fire," Molly bade him, making it clear that she'd witnessed certain kitchen related disasters if nothing else. "Just tea is fine... unless you want something? You're still weak, I suspect. It was a brave thing you did for that girl."

"I, er, have no idea what I want currently." Except maybe Rupert back home, now that Ethan was over the initial block.

"Ah, but you don't say you're not hungry." She followed him into the kitchen. "Why don't you let me make you tea like I did when you were small? It was the small things like that which I missed the most of all, curse the bear's boneless darkness. You can keep me company as I do by telling me the stories of your life."

What, all of them? "Not much to tell," Ethan prevaricated, feeling a little nonplussed as Molly busied herself around him, opening cupboards and examining the contents. "Not much that makes good hearing anyway."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Are you telling me that you have nothing to say about that handsome man you're living with?" she asked archly.

"That's Rupert." Ethan found himself grinning stupidly and tried to stop by adding, "I suppose there's some unpleasant name for us in Rom."

"I would call you pirenos, sweethearts," Molly replied as she began making sandwiches of some sort. "Of course, your Rupert is a gorgio, not of the blood, but that is easily forgiven in someone who gazes at you the way he does."

"Well, I'm hardly purebred myself," Ethan pointed out, trying not to blush. This was silly. He was a getting-closer-to-fifty-year-old man and shouldn't be beaming with pleasure at his nan's approval.

"Your heart has always been of the people. That's one of the reasons you had so hard a time following the rules of gorgio society." She smiled at him. "So tell me about your Rupert."

"He's..." Ethan searched for a way of putting it that could make sense to Molly. "He's my road, my reason."

"I can see that. Even as a child there was always a restlessness in you, a yearning. It's not there anymore. You found your path to travel."

"Yes." Ethan smiled, his gaze on the plate Molly was putting together. "I remember you making me sardine sarnies when I was little. And there was orange squash to go with them, or if I were really lucky, that apple cordial stuff I loved so much. I wonder if they still make that." He snorted softly. "Rupert and I are matching halves. How much do you know about the Prophecy? You are a part of it, I think."

Molly smiled and set a plate full of sandwiches and biscuits in front of him. "There's the Ethan I remember. Chattering on, changing subject every other line."

Ethan chuckled, suddenly feeling very much like the small boy he'd once been. "You haven't changed at all, you know."

"Chaos can be wonderful medicine for the twelve visible signs of ageing," she replied cheekily. She'd clearly been watching some television next door.

"Well, I know it's good for the figure, at least." He looked down. "I... How much do you know about what I...?"

"I know what Vaurtain knew; when he wanted to see you, I saw you too." Molly touched his face, urging him to look up. "I know how you broke free from his influence." He felt a sudden desperate urge to make excuses for himself and shut his mouth tightly to prevent blame spilling anywhere but where it belonged, with him. Molly squeezed his shoulder. "I know, mi chavo. It's all right. Whatever missteps you've taken, they also led the Devil's eye astray. You've made amends."

"Not yet." Ethan wasn't sure how he knew that, but it felt true. "But the mortgage is getting smaller. Nana, it's wonderful to have you back."

She smiled at him. "Eat your tea."

"Yes, Nana."

***  
Some time later, Ethan was very comfortable indeed. He was sitting in his armchair with a blanket tucked neatly over his legs, which were resting on a cushion on the coffee table. He had a glass of perfectly mixed apple cordial in one hand, which he was drinking through no less than three plastic drinking straws, one of each primary colour – a fact that pleased him enormously.

He wasn't at all sure how Molly had managed to obtain apple cordial from their crummy corner shop. Mind you, its appearance was no more inexplicable than that of the large slice of chocolate cake he was holding in his other hand. This wasn't Mr Kipling's grotty 'finest'; it was real gateau. Ethan strongly suspected Molly had used more than ordinary means of procurement.

She had gone back next door now, claiming she didn't want to overdo things so early in their reunion, and anyway, she'd promised 'the boys and girls a lesson in yokki fake', a term for which Ethan had conscientiously not requested a translation. This had left him alone bar a cake-begging Skunk, and he was beginning to wonder where Rupert had got to as this seemed a very long time for just a dog walk.

Ah. Hadn't there been something said about Ethan calling Rupert when he was ready for him to come back? Oops.

The thought seemed enough to conjure Rupert, however. Ethan hadn't even had time to finish his cake before making the requisite phone call before he heard the front door open. Rupert appeared in the living room doorway, looking ready to leave again if his presence wasn't welcome. Ethan grinned at him guiltily, not unaware of how cosseted he looked.

"I take it then that Molly passed muster and is indeed your nan?" Rupert asked dryly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorjamb. Giddy padded over and began to sniff around Ethan's chair for cake crumbs.

Ethan nodded happily. "I have apple cordial. She managed to magic some out of thin air. Well, the corner shop. She won't tell me what spell she used."

"That is possibly a good thing. And the straws? And cake?"

"Corner shop also, so she claims." Ethan filled his mouth with the last of his cake, dropping crumbs that were immediately hoovered up by the dogs. "There's more," he said with his mouth full. "If you want some."

"Perhaps later." Rupert took a seat on the couch, looking vaguely put out. "So you had her prove her identity by feeding you?"

Ethan gave him a sharp look. "No, I used my pattern sense, although I didn't really need to. I already knew inside. She volunteered to feed me, you know. Go next door and ask her if you don't believe me."

"Why wouldn't I believe you?" Rupert asked a little sharply. "I just wasn't expecting to come home to you..." He trailed off.

Ethan paused, wondering just what had pissed Rupert off as something seemed to have done. Agreed, there was the small matter of not calling Rupert home when he should have, but... Then suddenly Ethan knew. He released a bark of laughter. "You don't like someone else looking after me, do you?"

"You didn't like anyone else looking after me," Rupert pointed out with his reasonable voice, ignoring the actual question.

Smirking, Ethan slipped out from under his blanket, and after letting Skunk lick his fingers clean, he sat down close to Rupert, snuggling up to whisper in his ear. "She thinks you're all right... for a gorgio."

"How gracious," Rupert said dryly, although he still put an arm around Ethan's shoulders.

"Well, she said you were handsome too." Ethan used his tongue to scoop Rupert's pierced earlobe into his mouth and suck on it playfully. He knew how to get around a slightly put out husband.

"So she doesn't mind that you gave her earring to a gorgio to wear?"

Ethan released his small mouthful. "She said it suited you and seemed to imply it was somehow the equivalent of me scent-marking you. I didn't ask for details." He kissed up Rupert's neck. "I told her you were my 'road', and she agreed. She said I was complete now."

"I think we both are," Rupert replied softly.

Ah good, he was coming around. Ethan put his hand on Rupert's thigh and squeezed. "Sometimes more 'complete' than others."

Rupert covered Ethan's hand with his own. "Isn't this where we were when Molly showed up in the first place?"

"Pretty much. Let's jump ahead before, say, Xander can turn up." Ethan twisted up on the sofa and moved one of his legs over so that he was sitting astride Rupert's lap. "I think the cake and cordial was good for me."

"So good that you forgot to call me?"

Ouch. "She only left five minutes ago." He kissed Rupert's left temple. "And I maybe forgot that I was meant to." And then the right.

"Too caught up by your straws and chocolate cake?" Rupert asked, obviously not quite ready to let this lie just yet.

"Did you like my straws?" Ethan pulled back enough to beam at Rupert. "I had one of each colour!"

Rupert stared at him in that way he had when he wasn't quite sure of someone's sanity. "You really shouldn't be able to go from trying to seduce me, to indulging your inner child, quite that quickly."

"Why not?" Ethan was unabashed. "The two things aren't all that different, you know." He wiggled happily on Rupert's lap.

"I don't want to be picturing you as a big-eyed waif coveting pretty coloured straws when you're trying to seduce me."

"What about pretty coloured butt-plugs?" Ethan asked, looking as big-eyed as he could manage.

"Brat," Rupert accused, his hands sliding down to grab Ethan's arse.

"Just the way you like me." Ethan grinned and bent to lick around Rupert's lips.

"I like you pretty much any way," Rupert admitted, adding with a mock world weary air, "More fool I."

"You don't mean that," Ethan said, pulling back and pouting a little. "You're not a fool. By the way, Nana says she thinks we'll be hearing something soon about where Vaurtain's got to."

"Considering the entire resource network of the Council is being focused on finding him, we damn well better."

Ethan looked down. "I haven't really asked for specifics yet. I haven't wanted to, but I suppose now I'm getting better I should show an interest." He met Rupert's eyes again. "So what's the extent of the damage then? In places like Barking?"

Rupert grimaced. "It could have been far worse, but it's bad enough. There's physical damage to property, and injuries and fatalities in the resident population, but it's the psychological repercussions that are going to be the hardest to recover from."

Ethan grimaced. He could well imagine. Even he, with so much experience of Chaos, couldn't have kept his sanity long under such conditions. "We'll be feeling the aftershocks for years." He couldn't help but think of Ian when he said that.

"Indeed." Rupert leant his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes with a sigh. "Almost enough to make one long for that sheer power of denial once possessed by Sunnydale residents."

Ethan stroked Rupert's face, which still looked so drawn and weary. He hated seeing that. "We stopped it being so very much worse. Try to remember what we achieved, dearheart, please?"

"I do," Rupert said softly. He opened his eyes and met Ethan's gaze. "Including saving Dawn. That means a lot."

"Yes." A surprising amount actually. "I thought that I did it mainly for you, but... Well, it was very good to see her alive and healthy."

"It was," Rupert agreed softly. "It is. More than I could–"

Ethan kissed Rupert softly before continuing. "I think she'll always feel a little like part of me now. Not the way you do, of course – we're joined at the soul. But I know her pattern so well now that I wouldn't have to think about how to twist it in an emergency, as a for instance."

"She was mentioning something about having to buy you a tie for Father's Day."

Ethan found he was wearing a stupid grin again, and he looked down. "At least she didn't mention Mothering Sunday. Nana was telling me there's quite a crowd of Scoobies and Council types installed along our old street here. We're not going to be popular with the neighbours."

"Given everything else that's happened in London this last month, I'd think they were rather glad to be provided with... incentive to evacuate to those luxury hotel rooms out of town."

Ethan nodded. "You, er, may want to watch Nana with the girls. I think her motherly instincts may be overly strong after years of having to deny them."

Rupert raised an eyebrow. "So I should be prepared for an overabundance of apple cordial and coloured straws?"

"Quite possibly." Ethan chuckled. "It'll do her good to cosset the girls, I'm sure, but you may want to make sure it doesn't go too far. Remember whose grandmother she is, eh? She's a law unto herself." He laughed. "Better make that a nation state."

"You've proven yourself quite good with the girls," Rupert pointed out.

"Yes, and also rather... unconventional in my methods of looking after them." Ethan grinned. "Just don't say I didn't warn you. Oh, and what's this I hear about our Megan and some dark-haired American lovely?"

Rupert blinked. "Megan's been training with Faith, but I don't think–"

"Faith?" Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Faith was the loudmouthed slapper in your illusion, no?"

"Faith is the second most experienced Slayer next to Buffy," Rupert explained. "She's had a bit of a... shall we say, a rocky past?"

"Then she stays right away from Megan!" Ethan frowned heavily, but Rupert just raised an eyebrow at him again. "It's not the same as with us," Ethan objected, understanding exactly what the eyebrow was communicating. "You can look after yourself, but Megan... Well, she's young, inexperienced..."

"And Faith is not the same girl she was when she stumbled," Rupert replied smoothly. "Any more than we are the same men who summoned Eyghon."

"Hmm." Ethan remained unconvinced. "I'll have to check her out. Well, if Nana was right anyway."

"Bit ironic if Faith and Megan are..." Rupert mused. "Considering that she and Xander... and then Xander and Kat."

"She and Xander what?" Ethan looked sharply down at Rupert.

"Ah..." Rupert belatedly looked embarrassed, one hand reaching for his glasses, but stopping before he could touch them. "It... uh... Xander, he... It seems Faith took his virginity."

Ethan felt his eyebrow slowly rise. "Took? That's rather, uh, forceful."

"Xander was quite willing," Rupert hastened to clarify. "It's just that Faith was rather... uh...."

Ethan stared down at Rupert for a few seconds and then clambered off him without a word. He looked around for a coat, but anything he owned that fitted the bill was either back at the estate or ruined beyond repair. The blanket he'd had over his legs would do.

"What are you doing?" Rupert asked, half-rising himself.

"Going to have a serious talk with Megan," Ethan answered distractedly, while wrapping the blanket around himself.

Rupert was instantly at his side, taking the blanket away from him. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"On the contrary, I think it's essential!" Ethan tried to take the blanket back.

Rupert held it behind his back, out of Ethan's reach. "One, we don't even know if there is anything to have a serious talk about. Two, even if there is, don't you think you should at least meet Faith before you start imagining the worst?"

"I met her," Ethan said sullenly. "She was a bitch. I was virtually having a breakdown in front of her, and she–" He turned away.

"Ethan." Rupert touched his shoulder. "That wasn't real."

He didn't answer; there really wasn't anything to say. Turning back into the warm arms, he rested his head on Rupert's shoulder. He was suddenly feeling rather tired. Rupert's arms tightened around him, and there was a sudden steady flow of magic pouring into Ethan.

"Maybe I've had enough being up and about for today," he admitted, mumbling.

Rupert led him back over to the couch and sat down, pulling Ethan down into his lap. "You're still recovering. You have to be careful not to overdo it."

Sighing, Ethan made himself comfortable and closed his eyes. "I still want to see Megan though. And Kat. I have to thank them, you see." There was a soft thump into the sofa cushions as Skunk arrived. She curled up by his legs. "But tomorrow will do."

Rupert dropped a kiss at his temple. "They'll be more than happy to see you. Everyone was worried when you were–"

"I'm back now," Ethan said firmly. "And I'm staying. Even if I do have to take it easy for a while."

"I'm probably being a bit selfish, keeping you to myself as much as I have."

"I'm not complaining, dearheart. Really, I'm not. We've both been through a hell of a lot, and I think we need a break before it starts again." Still talking with his eyes shut, Ethan went on more reluctantly. "I keep remembering Ian is dead. I... That's going to take a lot of getting used to."

"I know," Rupert said softly, stroking over Ethan's back with gentle hands.

"When this is truly all over, we will go to Devon for a week or so, just like you suggested. Try and time for a storm and do some sort of letting go ritual." That was hard to say; he really didn't want to let go. It was far, far too soon.

"Letting go doesn't mean forgetting," Rupert pointed out, seeming to sense his thoughts. "I think he'd like some kind of storm for a memorial. Very fitting."

Ethan was quiet for a while, imagining a storm that would do Ian credit, but he found his thoughts were fragmenting into soft darkness and forced himself to open his eyes. "Rupert, if I sit cuddled on you much longer, I will fall asleep, and then you'll be trapped under me. You should eat. At least have a slice of the cake. It's wonderful."

"I'm all right," Rupert replied, sounding completely contented just to sit there with Ethan.

"I love you," Ethan said softly, kissing Rupert's cheek. "You never know, I may even love you still when you're skin and bones, but it's a bit of a longshot."

Rupert kissed Ethan's cheek in response. "Some things are more important than eating chocolate cake."

"Oh come. Now you've gone too far." Ethan grinned and kissed Rupert again, this time on the lips.

Rupert kissed him back, long and lingeringly, sliding a hand to the nape of Ethan's neck to hold him in place. "That, for instance," he murmured as they parted.

"This may," Ethan said, between several short kisses, "be a little... better than chocolate cake... I'll admit."

"And multicoloured straws?"

Ethan laughed. "And multicoloured straws, my naughty husband."


	4. Chapter 4

It was the first day back in his actual office for Giles, and he was finding it hard to concentrate in spite of knowing that Ethan was in the joined office next door. Or maybe that was the problem – knowing Ethan was so close, but not close enough.

Still, he knew he would have been equally distracted if Ethan had stayed at home; at least this way he wasn't worrying that he was going to be needed when he wasn't there. Giles sighed audibly, causing Gwydion to lift his head and look at him. "Damned if I do and damned if I don't," he murmured, addressing his dog in lieu of just talking to himself.

He was saved from further fretting only by a loud and abrupt knock on the door, which immediately opened, but only a crack. "Safe to come in, boss man?" called Xander's voice. "I'd've asked via Pamela's intercom, but I was worried I'd find myself patched into the PA system if I started pressing buttons at random."

"Please come in," Giles bade him, trying not to sound too eager to have the distraction from his thoughts.

Xander did so, closing the door behind him. He was, Giles immediately noticed, wearing a tartan eye patch. "Pamela's AWOL. I told Higgins to look in the stationery cupboard when he asked; I saw Matthew heading that way earlier."

"I wonder if I'll receive a recommendation to put a security camera in the stationery cupboard now," Giles mused idly, staring at Xander's new accoutrement. "That's an... interesting fashion statement."

Xander grinned and half-shrugged. "Just doing my bit for the war effort. It's a magic patch, you see. Makes unhappy, stressed people smile and laugh."

"Ah good. I rather feared that a kilt would be added next to your ensemble."

"Whatever it takes," Xander said with another grin. He perched on the edge of Giles' desk. "So, want to exchange news?"

"Yes, I know I've been a bit... distracted the last few days–"

"Everyone understood. Where's the distraction currently? Next door?"

Giles' gaze drifted to the door between the offices, but he didn't, for some reason, reach out with his senses. "If he's not off terrorising whoever is trying to use the coffeemaker."

"That'll give whoever it is a welcome sense of normality." Xander chuckled. "I sure hope you've got more to report than I have. Madiha reached Devon safely with her mom, so all's well there... At least until Mrs something-very-long-beginning-with-p understands what we meant by 'coven' anyway."

"I'm sure Lucy will be up to conveying such information in a non-threatening way." Giles allowed himself a small smile at the thought.

"At the moment, the family's just relieved to have escaped London." Picking up Giles' desk calendar, Xander absent-mindedly flicked through the pages, looking at the images. It was a Lord of the Rings one, sent from America – a Christmas gift from Andrew of all people. "Aww, not Grima! I always get the suck up creep on my birthday page. Enough with the Igor-imagery already!"

"You can commiserate with Ethan; he was pouting because he got the eye of Sauron on his birthday."

"Better the Biggest of the Bad than a bug-eyed lackey of the not-quite-so-big bad!" Xander looked indignant. "I suppose you got Gandalf at his most shining white."

"Gimli actually," Giles replied, long accustomed to these kind of surreal conversations and rather proud that he was getting better at following them now.

"Ah, the Jarjar Binks of the Fellowship. Nice." Xander grinned. "I was in the West End this morning. London seems to be getting back to normal after licking her wounds for a few days. The Underground was brimming with lots of sweating commutery goodness again. I'm told the schools in most places have reopened too."

Giles was quietly pleased to hear that. "Not the first time this city has had to pick up the pieces and make an effort to reclaim the daily grind."

"People have a vested interest in getting back to what passes for 'normal' ASAP. It's that old Sunnydale 'give a little whistle' thing, I guess."

"Normal would be... nice." More and more, Giles was noticing a yearning for such a state in himself, but really, given what he knew and what he did –who he in fact was– normal was never going to be something possible for him.

"You'd be bored in a matter of days," Xander told him, smiling. He shifted on the desk. "Well, that's about it for my news. Hopefully Pamela and her Chaos beast hunting crew will come up with something more thrilling soon."

"I have every faith in Pamela's abilities and that of her team. She'll have something for us shortly." Giles sighed. "And then the difficult bit will start. Again."

"You won against him in the maze," Xander pointed out.

Giles shook his head. "Not completely. If we had, we wouldn't be dealing with this now."

"Anything we should be doing to prepare that we're not?"

"Oh, quite probably. There always seems to be something."

Xander stared steadily at Giles. "That was the wrong question to ask you, wasn't it? Let me rephrase. What can I be doing to help the ongoing war effort?"

"Ah..." Giles tried to kickstart his brain. "Aside from wearing tartan eye patches? Training the Slayers. Getting them ready to fight."

"Faith's kinda already seeing to that. Rona's here too now. They're toughening the girls up with campfire tales of the First Evil. And not that I mind watching the training," Xander paused to give a sheepish grin, "but I can't help feeling kinda redundant."

"Did you have something else in mind?"

Xander shrugged. "Maybe you've got a table that needs fixing?"

"You're far more than that, Xander," Giles replied, surprised that Xander could still reduce himself to only what he could do with his hands. "You have a knack of seeing to the heart of people and understanding what they need. It's a rare talent, and one you utilise far better than almost anyone else I've ever met."

"Yeah, that's me, the Heart." He didn't sound very encouraged, although the smile he gave Giles seemed appreciative. "Sometimes I think it'd be easier to be just a carpenter, to follow the grain, smoothing and working... Though I guess that's what I do with people too." He straightened up and changed his tone of voice to an altogether brighter one. "Enough about my morale, how's yours?"

Giles blinked. "Mine?"

Xander scratched his head. "Yeah, yours. Why not yours?"

Giles didn't really know how to answer that. "I'm... maintaining." Xander just looked at him. "You know that really is disconcerting with the..." he gestured towards the patch.

"Think of the plaid as a good luck charm," Xander quipped. "As you know, dead men don't wear..." He held his hands up in an 'altogether now' gesture.

Giles smiled very faintly. "I'm unsure of the wisdom of basing good luck charms on Steve Martin movies, but if it works..."

"What works for you?" Xander asked a little bluntly, clearly not ready to give up his line of questioning just yet.

"Ethan." The answer slipped out before Giles gave it any thought.

Xander nodded, his expression serious. "So I ask again, how's your morale? You know, having almost lost your, uh, plaid eye patch."

"How is my morale?" Giles echoed, deciding to give in and answer honestly. "I'm tired, emotionally as well as physically."

Xander nodded again. "Think the enemy'll be counting on that, don't you?"

"It wouldn't surprise me." Giles sighed wearily. "Although there's not much I can do about it except carry on in spite of it all."

"Maybe you should work towards something more than just 'kill the bad guy'," Xander suggested. "You know, like promise yourself a luxury vacation with Ethan somewhere once this is over. A Scooby snack!" He grinned.

A holiday, just as Ethan himself had been dreaming of. The thought of time alone with Ethan somewhere where they wouldn't have to worry about, well, anything engendered a strong yearning in Giles. "That would be... nice," he understated.

"Plan it out then. Spend a little while working out the wheres and hows of it. Now would be a good time to start, what with us all being in waiting mode."

The problem was that even thinking of doing so felt irresponsible somehow. It was one thing to daydream with Ethan about what they could do if there weren't these duties and commitments; it was another to actively plan leaving them behind. But Giles was clear-eyed enough to realise that guilt wasn't a rational reaction in this case and so he pushed those qualms to the side. "I'm sure Ethan would be more than happy to do so."

"Ethan's not the one I'm worried about here. One thing you gotta say for the man, he knows how to chill." Xander stood up from the desk. "Think of me as a concerned first officer here, telling the captain he needs to take a small dose of selfish while he can, for the sake of the ship."

"It's convincing myself that I can afford to take a small dose of selfish right now that's the difficult part."

"Like you ever find it easy," Xander said wryly. "Maybe I'll just mosey next door and set Ethan onto this. He always likes an excuse to distract you."

"Ethan generally doesn't need an excuse to distract me," Giles said with a faint smile.

"True. Well, with my entire lack of authority, I am ordering you to go to him now and discuss sun, sea and palm trees." Xander winked and then immediately frowned. "You'd think I'd have learned not to do that by now, but no, a little voice in my head is still crying 'why's everything so dark?' every time I do." He gave Giles a salute and turned to walk towards the door.

"Xander?" When Xander looked back, Giles said simply, "Thank you."

***

Ethan was busy building an impressive wall with his tarot cards on his desk, but when Rupert entered his office unexpectedly, Ethan gave a not-all-that-guilty start, and the structure collapsed, cards wafting down onto the carpet around him. He pouted hard at the cause of the destruction .

"I can leave again if you prefer," Rupert offered in the face of that pout.

"No!" That wouldn't do at all. Ethan got up in a hurry and crossed the room to put his hands on Rupert's hips. "Stay. Please."

"If you're sure," Rupert said, his arms going automatically around Ethan. "I don't want to interrupt any important... card construction."

"There was method in my apparent madness. Well, some." Ethan smiled ruefully. "I was playing with ideas of patterns and random chance. Not as if I had anything better to do. They chucked me out of the ritual room when I tried to help them. No one believes I'm better now." He caught the slight petulant whine in his own tone and made sure it was gone before he continued. "Which I am. Truly."

Rupert began to send magic into Ethan as he did practically every time he was touching Ethan now. "Better, yes, but not fully recovered. Not yet. No one wants you to suffer a setback because you became too... enthusiastic about helping before you were ready."

"I'm bored." The whine was back already. Ethan decided he didn't care.

Rupert kissed him. "What can I do to help?"

"We could go home..." Rupert seemed to be feeling agreeable; maybe it was worth a try.

It earned him a long weary sigh. "I would like nothing better, love, but–"

"But what? If you had something important to do, you wouldn't be in here with me now." Ethan pressed closer. "Let's go home and do a scrying."

"Checking on you is important," Rupert remonstrated gently. He seemed to be considering something and finally nodded, more to himself than to Ethan. "Right. I've been working out of home up to now; I can manage to do it again today. If you want to go home, we'll go home."

"Really?" But the big grin that had instantly blossomed on Ethan's face slowly faded. "I'm being selfish, am I not?"

Rupert smiled wryly. "I've been informed that I'm to take the time to be selfish when I can. Truth be told, I'd rather be there than here as well. With you."

Ethan bit his lip. Well, it was that or say something unbearably soppy. He cupped Rupert's face in his hands and smiled as best he could with his lower lip firmly trapped between his teeth.

Rupert ran a finger along Ethan's mouth, gently freeing and smoothing his lower lip. "Is that so difficult to believe?"

Ethan closed his eyes. "I believe you. It just... means a lot."

"Come on," Rupert said, kissing him. "Let's get out of here before someone comes up with a reason for me to stay."

Ethan didn't need any more incentive than that. He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door and whistled Skunk to his side. "Shall I cloak us on the way out?" It was only half a joke.

"I don't think we need to go quite that far," Rupert said as he led the way back into his office. "Gwydion," he said, calling his dog to him as he collected his coat and satchel.

With the dogs trotting happily along behind, they made their way through the corridors towards the exit to the carpark. The wood-panelled walls and endless identical doors had been feeling almost as oppressive today as they had the first time Ethan had ever come here, and he was glad to be fleeing them. "I never quite thought I'd say this, but I rather miss the Estate," he commented as they left the building. "Not the bedroom, I'm much happier back at Mountbatten, but the outdoors. The grass, the trees, the river... the rabbits." He sniggered.

"And I always thought of you as such a city boy," Rupert teased.

Ethan paused as Rupert found the keys and pressed the button to unlock the doors. "I am... was. Not sure what I am anymore. Nana coming back has me rather confused, I'm afraid."

"I know one thing you are," Rupert said as he held open the back door for the dogs to get in. "Mine."

Ethan wondered if, when he was pushing one hundred, he'd still get the same heart-clenching, groin-tightening reaction every time Rupert said that. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "It's nice to have something certain in life."

Rupert smiled at him, reaching over and briefly squeezing his hand before slipping down into the driver's seat.

London wasn't, Ethan thought as they drove out of Whitehall, quite back to normal just yet. While city centre traffic had been reduced anyway since Ken Livingstone had brought in his infamous traffic control scheme, that couldn't explain the substantially depopulated pavements and pedestrian streets. There were threats of further riots in certain areas apparently, but not here. People just wanted to stay indoors.

They were both quiet to start with as they drove. Ethan turned slightly sideways to watch Rupert's profile; it was a lot more interesting than the road. Rupert glanced over and smiled when he caught Ethan watching him. "What?" he asked, still smiling.

"Admiring my good taste," Ethan replied smugly.

"Even when I get lost in my work?"

Ethan's eyebrows pulled together. "What's that got to do with anything? You're still the best catch out there."

"I'm lucky you think so," Rupert said softly.

"Always have. Hardly going to stop now. What's bothering you, dearheart? You're acting as if you have something on your mind." Ethan snorted. "Beyond the Vaurtain/ Francesca Travers/ end of the world mess, I mean." Beyond the loss of Ian too, he thought to himself, although he knew that Rupert had to be feeling the bereavement almost as strongly as he was.

He had been finding it best to ignore the fact of Ian's death during this wait for what surely had to be the final battle of the war. He tried to maintain a casual, unquestioning illusion that Ian was just in the next room or back at the Estate. That way, Ethan could get on with things, do what needed to be done. It wasn't always possible to keep it up, however. He'd felt Ian die, after all, and knew at a profound level that his friend had gone... But then, Ian had come back to help with remaking Dawn, hadn't he?

It was hard to give up hope for a miracle, but most miracles, Ethan knew, were pipe dreams and mirages. Ian was gone and better off for being gone, no doubt.

Rupert shook his head. "It's nothing. I'm just tired." He smiled faintly. "It's making me maudlin."

Yes, Ethan knew that one. "We need a holiday."

Rupert's smile became less faint. "So Xander was telling me."

"Yes, well, an excuse to never again see that eye patch he's been wearing would be good too."

"That is rather.... startling, isn't it?"

"Well, it's certainly distracting, which he claims is its purpose. I told him I could think of several better ways to distract people... Well, me, at least. He wasn't impressed." Ethan chuckled.

"I doubt Kat would have been either," Rupert replied wryly, but he seemed a little more relaxed with the banter.

What could he do to help Rupert relax further? The strain of the last few weeks was showing more every day in Rupert's face, and that hurt to see. If it were Ethan, some good hard shagging would sort him out, but Rupert was different. "What one thing that you don't currently have would you most like to have at this moment?"

It took Rupert a long moment to answer. "Freedom," he finally said.

Hmm. "That's what you said when Ian asked you a similar question, isn't it? It worried me then."

"Not from you, not that kind of freedom," Rupert was quick to reassure him, letting go of the gearstick and briefly clasping Ethan's hand.

"Freedom from feeling the entire weight of the world on your shoulders, I imagine. It would be nice," Ethan said wistfully.

"This is what comes of me pulling you into my world," Rupert said ruefully. "You get to share the burden."

"As payments go, it's a pittance for what I've gained in return, and anyway, you are hardly to blame for the prophecy." They were just entering Mountbatten. The dogs could always tell somehow, becoming restless in the back. "How shall we spend the afternoon, my dear? What would best take your mind off that weight?"

"Xander suggested planning a holiday to take when this is over."

Interesting. "Serious planning or never never land planning?"

"I think he had in mind serious planning. As in 'actually follow through on said planning when this is over'."

"And do you intend to oblige?"

"I was thinking of doing so, yes," Rupert replied, sliding the car into their usual parking spot in front of their house.

"Oh, this is good." Ethan must remember to thank Xander. "Where were you thinking of then?"

"I don't know." Rupert turned off the engine and looked at Ethan. "Anywhere you want to go, I would imagine."

"Surely you have a preference." Ethan used the opportunity to slip his hand over Rupert's thigh.

Rupert shook his head, dropping a hand to cover Ethan's. "Not really."

"Then why do this? Why plan out something you have no interest in?"

"I never said I had no interest in it." He lifted Ethan's hand up to drop a kiss in the palm. "My interest lies in going away with you. The destination doesn't matter so much as the company."

"So we could camp out in your gamekeeper's cottage, and you'd be just as happy as if we were sunning ourselves on the sands of a tropical island?" Ethan laughed. "Don't you ever miss California?"

Rupert seemed to think about that. "I miss the people who didn't make it out," he finally said. "But not the place."

"I remember Xander saying something similar once. Sunnydale just wasn't popular with those not supping on Hellmouth spa waters. Let's get inside now. I'm getting chilly."

"Right." They got out of the car and followed the dogs who rushed ahead to the door, tails wagging. "It seems someone else is glad to be home as well," Rupert observed.

"Can't be much fun for them – sitting around in a boring office, stressed people all around them and nobody with the time to play with them." Ethan told himself very firmly that he was only talking about the dogs.

Nevertheless, Rupert seemed to hear what Ethan was trying very hard not to say because he winced at that and opened his mouth, Ethan was sure, to apologise.

"Stop it!" he warned quickly. "If my needs are worrying you, then bear in mind that one of my greatest needs is for a happy, fret-free Rupert. Now are you going to open the door, or will I have to admit that I came out without my keys this morning?"

Rupert opened and closed his mouth before managing, "That's never stopped you before," as he turned back to the door and unlocked it.

"If I were intending a spot of breaking and entry, I'd have hidden us from view first."

They went inside. Both dogs went immediately to their food bowls in the kitchen and barked hopefully, but Ethan had something he wanted to do first. As they entered the front room, he turned and wrapped his arms around Rupert, gently but firmly pushing him back against the wall by the low bookshelf. "Thank you," he said with a slight smile, before pressing hard against him for a kiss.

Rupert's arms went tightly around him in return. "You really hate it at the office, don't you?" he asked softly.

Between kisses, Ethan snorted softly. "I imagine it's much like how you feel within a storm. It's an experience you're prepared to undergo for me, but not one you'll ever be able to revel in."

"I revel in you," was the simple answer Rupert gave him.

Ethan smiled gently and moved against Rupert. "I'd revel in you too, given half the chance. Not much opportunity for that while we're in separate rooms however, especially when you're studiously avoiding talking to me through the bond, despite the fact that I am better now."

"Your reserves are still far lower than they should be though," Rupert reminded him.

Not wanting to have that discussion yet again, Ethan just smirked and said, "Shut up and kiss me." Rupert shook his head with a small smile and leant in to obey.

It was, as kisses went, a particularly fine one, and Ethan decided it should last a good long time. The hungry dogs, however, had other ideas. They were suddenly milling around behind his legs and one –Skunk, no doubt– had the audacity to nip at his trouser leg and tug.

Laughing, Rupert pulled back. "It seems your presence is being requested elsewhere."

Ethan pouted. "Someone is getting a bowl of dry kibble and no meat." Skunk looked up at him with the saddest wide eyes a half-grown dog could manage.

Rupert chuckled as he moved away, going to feed Gwydion. "You two are definitely a matched set."

"Huh. It's Giddy who puts her up to it, I'd swear." Ethan walked carefully into the kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on his recalcitrant hound.

"I think she learnt by watching you," Rupert countered. Gwydion was sitting patiently and well behaved at his master's feet as Rupert got his food ready.

"No, I'd swear it's Giddy. Look at him sitting good as fool's gold there. He winds her up and sets her going then reaps the benefit without the censure."

"She doesn't need to be wound up. She just acts up until she gets the attention she craves." Rupert put Gwydion's dish down on the floor for him and glanced up at Ethan with a grin. "Like someone else I could name."

Ethan bit his lower lip; he seemed to be doing that a lot today. Then he unbit it and said with an evil smile, "I'll just be popping next door to see Nana now, shall I? I suspect she's bought me a little treat or two she'd like me to have..."

Rupert lifted an eyebrow. "Considering I left work to spend time with you, I don't think you need to resort to such ruses to get my attention."

Bugger. Ethan leant back against the wall and rubbed his face with his hands, relishing hiding behind them for a few moments. "That wasn't actually a plea for attention, but it was an underhanded jibe. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Rupert assured him breezily then paused. "Isn't it?"

"Well," Ethan said, straightening and mooching towards Rupert, "it was ungrateful of me. I shouldn't object to the truth, should I? I suppose I'd like to think better of my dog than I do of myself though." He kissed Rupert's cheek then turned to see about feeding Skunk.

Rupert came up behind him, sliding his arms around Ethan's waist. "I like you with all of your... quirks and foibles firmly in place."

He rubbed his hand over Rupert's before opening the unpleasant smelling 'meaty chunks' – being the top brand improved neither look nor stink, but Skunk seemed to like it well enough. She barked excitedly. "I smell this stuff in my nightmares," Ethan commented.

"It is rather... pungent, isn't it?"

"It's horrid, and I truly hate to imagine what's in it. Can't we feed them proper food? We can afford it, surely." He added a layer of the 'vet approved' dog biscuit and bent to put the bowl down. Skunk's muzzle was buried in it before it touched the floor.

"These are supposed to be the best thing to feed dogs, nutritionally speaking," Rupert pointed out unnecessarily, watching both animals dig in as if they hadn't been fed in weeks. "And they do seem to like it."

"Yes, that's the addictive chemicals they obviously add to the 'optimised' mix," Ethan said a little sourly as he filled the kettle. "They have to ensure brand loyalty somehow, don't they?"

Rupert kissed Ethan on the cheek before moving away. He began to put together the makings of sandwiches. "You have a suspicious mind, love."

"I'm merely a realist." Ethan paused after getting out a couple of mugs. "Rupert?"

"Yes?"

Keeping his back to Rupert, Ethan asked, "What are we going to do with Nana? Now that she's back, I mean. Where's she going to live?"

"I guess that depends on where she would like to live." Ethan could feel Rupert's eyes on him. "Is there some arrangement in particular you have in mind?" Ethan didn't answer, not because he didn't want to, but because his mind seemed to freeze on the question. Rupert's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Love?"

He turned and gave Rupert a rueful look. "I'm rather confused," he admitted.

"About where you want your grandmother to live?"

Playing his finger absently down Rupert's waistcoat, Ethan tried to find words to express what he didn't understand himself. "I... Well, she's been alone forty plus years in a Chaos dimension..."

"Yes." Rupert ran his hands along Ethan's arms soothingly. "She's adjusted remarkably well." Ethan retreated back to silence, resting his head on Rupert's shoulder. "She seems to be doing just fine," Rupert reassured him. "But whatever she needs, we'll make sure she gets it."

Giving up, even though he was finally starting to understand just what he was wrestling with, Ethan turned back to the mugs and put a tea bag in each. "Have we any of that pate left for the sandwiches?" he asked, deliberately defying the part of him craving strawberry jam.

Rupert gave him a brief squeeze before moving away again. "I think we just might," he said, going back to preparing lunch for them.

Hmm, he'd been expecting some typical Rupert pressure to be applied after that subject change. Not getting it was simultaneously a relief and a little worrying. Ethan turned to watch his husband while the teabags stewed. "Barbados then?"

"If that's where you want to go," Rupert said, glancing up at him with a smile.

"Or a luxury hotel in Monte Carlo... or two weeks in that private resort I was reading about in Australia, or–"

Rupert laughed. "You've been giving this some thought I see."

Ethan smiled at Rupert's back. "I just want you and as much luxury as we can afford. I really don't care where we go as long as it's far enough away from the Council HQ for them not to be able to call you in for an emergency that isn't."

"I'll leave my mobile at home. Promise."

"If you do that, and don't leave a number where you can be reached, we can even stay in this country. That way we could take the dogs more easily." Ethan stalked over and wrapped his arms around Rupert from behind. "How do you fancy some time in an expensive Highlands hotel? One attached to a four or five star restaurant and with fantastic views from our windows?"

"And a nearby cliff for you should any storms brew up?" Rupert asked, taking one hand from his food preparation to cover Ethan's hands.

"Sounds perfect." Ethan kissed the side of Rupert's neck. "Really."

"It does, doesn't it?" He could hear the smile in Rupert's voice.

"We deserve it. Or, at least, you do. My hero husband." Ethan snuck his hand forward to the counter and stole a sandwich from the plate Rupert was putting together.

Rupert let him. "I'm not the one who almost died bringing Dawn back," he reminded. "You have to face it, love. You deserve that title as much as I ever did."

"Effectively, yes. But I'm not the one with the heroic heart. If not for you, I would have ridden our little crisis here out in deepest Katmandu. Good sarnie." Ethan turned back to sort the now slightly over-stewed tea. Ah well. They both liked it strong.

"No, you wouldn't have," Rupert said with confidence.

"Well, no, as I'd still be stuck in deepest Nevada instead."

He could practically hear Rupert's wince at that. "What I mean," Rupert began, picking up the plate of sandwiches and stopping beside Ethan on his way to the kitchen door, "is that your instincts and your heart are far more heroic than you like to admit to."

And there he was biting his lip again. Ethan knew it wasn't true, knew he had merely extended outwards the circle of his selfish concerns, but it seemed to do Rupert good to believe what he was saying, so what was the harm? He smiled at Rupert and didn't argue any further.

Rupert smiled back. "And you think that's pure malarkey," he said good-naturedly. "That's all right. I'm still going to know the truth."

Ethan was just carrying the tea into the living room when Rupert's hated mobile began to ring. He groaned. "Well, we had half an hour. I suppose I should be grateful." Rupert picked it up, but didn't answer it, staring at the phone instead. "Going to wait for it to go to voicemail?" Ethan asked, putting one of the mugs down in front of Rupert and sitting back with the other.

Shaking himself, Rupert hit the answer button and held the handset to his ear. "Yes?" Ethan took another sandwich from the plate and listened to Rupert's side of the conversation as he ate. "You have? Are you sure?" Rupert began pacing.

It was clear from the tension immediately present in Rupert's stance and expression that this was something big. Ethan's stomach clenched as he made an astute guess as to what.

"Arrange for everyone to come in immediately for a briefing. Say three o'clock? I think we can make it back in time." Rupert paused. "Right. And Pamela? Excellent work." He disconnected and turned off his phone.

"Found her, haven't they." Ethan said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Rupert replied, seeming distracted.

"Where is she, and what's the complication?" Ethan asked, as it was clear there was one.

"Saffron Waldon, of all places. The complication is the number of Slayers she seems to have collected." He turned to look at Ethan, eyes bleak. "We're looking at quite a battle just to get to her."

"Slayer versus Slayer," Ethan murmured, understanding the bleakness.

"Slayer versus Slayer," Rupert confirmed solemnly.

The relaxed man, the one who had seemed to want to concentrate on cosseting Ethan and domestic trivialities, was gone. Back was the controlled Watcher, the leader of men... and young girls. Ethan puffed out his cheeks and sighed heavily. "One way or another, this battle against Vaurtain will be the last time we meet him. I'm not going through this for a third time. We have to destroy him, Rupert."

"We will," Rupert said firmly. Then more softly, he added, "Whatever the cost."


	5. Chapter 5

"We're closing the blinds so that Mojadidi's display will be visible, sir," Pamela told Giles, pausing in setting up the conference room ready for the meeting to start. They were still waiting for a few stragglers anyway –Buffy, to name an important one– but most were here, including Faith for the first time, and Molly as a 'visiting expert'.

"Thank you, Pamela," Giles told her, wondering if he should be grateful or worried that it was so easy to slip back into business mode, even with all of his conflicted feelings.

"If you make it dark enough," Ethan said, from where he was perched on a side table, stubbornly refusing to sit with everyone else, "no one will be able to see that my eyes are shut." There was an audible tutting from one of the Watchers further down the conference table.

"Keeping you up, are we?" Giles asked with raised eyebrow.

Ethan just gave him an inexplicable dark-eyed look in reply, but Xander, sitting to Giles' right, chuckled. "Pity you didn't attend Sunnydale High with us, Ethan. You would've made my attention span look good."

Molly, sitting further down the table, said quietly, "I always found bribery helped..."

"Apple cordial and bendy straws?" Giles asked her with a faint smile.

"Throw in twinkies and soda and you may have the fixings of a new policy for meetings," Xander quipped.

"You should lend me that atrocious eye-patch," Ethan commented dourly to Xander. "As it seems to be my turn to be class clown. Is there some reason we're all just hanging about uselessly and not actually having the damn meeting?"

"My guess?" came from the doorway, and Giles looked up to see Buffy standing there with Dawn just behind her. "They're waiting for me. Sorry, didn't mean to be all fashionably late. We just needed to pick up something, and it took longer than Dawn told me it would."

"Yeah," Dawn said, rolling her eyes at her sister. "Make it all my fault."

As the two Summers girls sat down, Pamela lowered the lights ready for the brief presentation. She looked at Giles, obviously waiting for him to call the meeting to order. "All right," he said, raising his voice, although everyone had already fallen quiet. "Pamela, Mojadidi, would you like to share the information that you've discovered?"

Mojadidi straightened up from where he was still fiddling with the projector and pressed a key on his open laptop. The interactive whiteboard, as Pamela had informed Giles it was called, immediately displayed an aerial photograph of some buildings.

"This is where the enemy is holed up," Pamela said, her voice pitched to carry to the whole room. "It's an abandoned private airfield near Saffron Waldon. What you're looking at is the ex-office block, which is where we have observed the most activity, although they also seem to be using the old hangers – for what, we're not sure."

"Could hide a whole bulk buy of badness under those roofs," Faith commented, leaning forward as she stared at the screen. "Machines, demons, armies, portals or hocus-pocus, anything. I'll lay odds it isn't a good anything."

Pamela nodded in agreement. "Judging by the number of Slayers we have seen during training sessions out on the airstrip, we now believe Miss Travers and her associates have been gathering resources for quite some time. We need to expect the worst." She rested her hand briefly on Mojadidi's shoulder, and he pressed a couple of keys. The view changed to one further away, showing the fields around the buildings. "It is probably a good thing for the general public that there is this expanse around the building. However, we should not assume that it is empty space."

"This Vaurtain of yours," Xander started. "Much of a strategy-guy?"

Molly leant forward, and by that action alone seemed to easily collect the attention of everyone present. "That would depend, dear, on this unfortunate woman currently providing him with a home."

"And why exactly would that be?" Giles asked, looking at Molly intently.

She smiled at him, her eyes glittering in the half-light of the room. "The old bear isn't one of the shiniest coins in the bag, m'dear. Pure _kraz_ , you see – pure Chaos. Chaos isn't clever; it can't plan or think things through. It just does whatever whim demands of it, and whim can be a wicked mistress. Oh yes."

Ethan slipped off his little table and came forward, an intense expression on his face. "What are you saying, Nana? Vaurtain needs humans to think for him?"

"Humans or other bright ones, yes, camo. Alone, he would never have broken from his prison."

"That's why you're still alive, isn't it?" Ethan's voice was grim and cold. "You've been his slave all this time, providing him with... strategy." There was a palpable tension in the room now; all eyes seemed to be on the two Raynes. Giles all but held his breath as he watched, knowing that beyond the personal ramifications, this information could prove to be of key importance.

"Someone had to watch over you," she said. "Keep him from killing you or worse. Another slave would not have cared about your fate. I knew you and your _pireno_ would destroy him though, in the end. I saw it right back at the beginning of all this."

"Wouldn't you have kept Ethan alive anyway, even if you hadn't seen some of the Prophecy?" Dawn asked a little breathlessly, but Molly just smiled at her, gently and enigmatically.

"Unfortunately, I don't think Francesca will be as considerate of our continued existence," Giles observed. "Although the fact that her feelings and thoughts may influence Vaurtain could indeed prove useful."

"Yes," Ethan said, a hard edge still audible in his voice, although he was no longer so intense. "It means it will be Watcher versus Watcher, as well as Slayer versus Slayer. War Games, in her mind, at least. She'll be looking forward to this." That was exactly the thing that Giles had feared the most; he should have known it was therefore inevitable.

"Yeah, she'll be wanting to prove that the Travers' way is the best way, just like Daddy Dearest," Buffy said, her distaste for the entire family evident in her voice.

"How much control will this Chaos beast have over Francesca Travers' actions?" asked a male voice from further down the table. Ah yes, Higgins.

Molly answered. "It doesn't work like that. Not that the Devil ever tried this trick with me more than once. I gave him indigestion, he claimed." Ethan laughed and so did Faith, funnily enough. Molly winked at her across the table. "It's more a... partnership. The woman will provide the intelligence and personality, and the Bear provides the will, the desires and the power."

"Oh," Dawn exclaimed. "Like vampires!" Molly nodded.

"What would happen," Giles began slowly as he tested the idea before he spoke, "if they were split?"

"Vaurtain is pure Chaos," Molly replied. "He couldn't co-exist with Order, the way things in this world do. Not without a home, a shell to hide in. That's why he was trying to infect London with the stuff of his realm."

"So if we hand the creep his eviction papers, he's just going to gatecrash into some other poor slob?" Faith shook her head. "Fuck that." Someone tutted further down the table, and she rolled her eyes.

"Not if we can get him to go somewhere else," Dawn said, wearing a little smirk that looked disturbingly like Ethan at his smuggest. "Somewhere we choose."

"What are you thinking of, sweetheart?" Ethan asked, smiling a very similar smile, perhaps in appreciation of hers.

"Would it be possible to herd this thing?" Higgins asked before Dawn could answer.

"On a very limited level," Giles said, remembering how it shrank from his Ordered magic but also how it had been threatening to overwhelm Ethan and him anyway.

"We can lure it," Dawn put in. "Like calls to like, especially with something like Chaos."

"That's true..." Ethan came forward, leaning over an empty chair to put his hands on the table. "Dawn, confess!"

Dawn gave that little smile again. "What you told me about your fight with Vaurtain, about him being stuck in a portal between here and a realm of raw Chaos, it got me thinking. He doesn't belong here; that's why there are locks on the portals and only one Key. So what we need to do is banish him back to his own soil, but the portal in the maze no longer exists. So where is the one other doorway to Chaos that we know of?"

"The Hellmouth in Cleveland?" Xander asked, sounding puzzled. "But that's not Chaos, is it? I mean it's chaos, yeah, but not Chaos, right?" He looked around the gathered experts. "Right?"

"Right," Ethan agreed, but his tone was distracted. "Been taking a little trip underground, sweetheart?" he asked Dawn.

Dawn dug into the knapsack she'd been carrying and pulled out, oh. The Mallon chest which contained the Chaos pouch. "I thought we might need this so I went and got it," she said, looking at Giles and shrugging apologetically. "Hope you don't mind."

Feeling bemused more than anything, Giles sat back in his seat. "I suppose I shouldn't have made such a production of showing you the code to get in if I wanted to keep you out." It did make him shudder a little, however, seeing the chest here. It was as if Dawn had suddenly pulled out a huge grenade.

But Ethan was nodding slowly, his eyes still on Dawn and the Mallon chest. "Rupert, what happened to the Bachian matrix after I, um, emptied it?"

"I kept it; it's back at the house." He glanced at Ethan sharply. "You have a plan?"

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far... but if the bear of absolutely no brain is attracted to the Bag o'Chaos, the matrix, being the bag's opposite, could be a" –he straightened and shrugged, looking at Giles now– "a herding device? I'm not sure. I just feel strongly that if we use the one, we should have the other."

"Chaos and Order in balance," Giles murmured. "That does seem to be the overwhelming theme in all of this."

Ethan nodded and looked back at Dawn. "You're the only person who can handle that bag safely. I know Buffy is watching over you, but I think, so as not to give the enemy a double reason to aim all they have at you, that the chest should be put somewhere extraordinarily safe until just before the battle."

"Like an underground, warded vault perhaps?" Giles said pointedly.

"Better where we can keep an eye on it, surely," Xander remarked. "Or even two, if you've got them."

"I figured we might want to have it handy," Dawn defended. "In case we need to do something fast."

Attention moved away from her as the display on the huge screen changed, Pamela having obviously decided it was time to move on. "These are the blueprints of the main offices. You'll find copies of them in your hand-outs. The two main entrances are here" –she touched the laptop screen, and a red circle appeared on the big display– "and here. We don't know what rooms are being used for what purposes, of course, and we also have reason to believe the structure extends underground."

Giles became silent and watched as the others began hammering out an assault plan. Slayers attacking Slayers. The thought made his stomach tighten painfully. Responsibility for the Slayer had been bred into him, blood and bone. Just because there was more than one now didn't lessen that. He knew rationally that, with so many now existing, it would be impossible to keep them all safe, or even to keep them all alive, but this... Slayer against Slayer.

Even if they win, they lose.

 _'You can't look after them all.'_ Ethan's words slid so softly into Giles' mind that, for the first moment or so, he thought they were his own thoughts. _'You need to let them fly now, Watchers and Slayers both. You and I need to be each other's concern when we go against Vaurtain again.'_

Giles looked up, searching for and then holding Ethan's gaze. _'You're always my concern,'_ he sent back.

Ethan smiled softly at him, but then turned to interrupt the discussions. "Your top priority must be to clear an area around Vaurtain, Frannie T., and keep everyone out of it bar Rupert and I... and Dawn, I suppose." He didn't look happy about that and neither did Buffy. "This area will have to be warded, to keep Vaurtain within it. The most powerful circle of Order you can manage, I would suggest."

Several Watchers just looked at him, either having no idea what he was talking about or refusing to acknowledge his authority. Ethan sighed, but Mojadidi nodded slowly. "We could do that," he said in his heavily accented voice. "If we prepare the sigils in advance. I can't guarantee that it will be strong enough; we have no accurate way to ascertain the Chaos creature's strength while within Ms Travers..." He frowned, obviously thinking it through.

"We've got some heavy duty strength in the magic department ourselves," Xander put in. "Willow's flying in tomorrow." He paused. "On a plane. Just to be clear."

"Willow will certainly be a great help with any magical attacks and defences," Giles agreed. It seemed that all of the old Scoobies were going to end up hip-deep in this. "Mojadidi, you'll want to coordinate any possible wardings with her."

"Good, good," he muttered, typing quickly into the laptop. The screen started to change pictures rapidly, and Pamela frowned and pressed a switch on its side, turning it off.

"Right then," Ethan said brightly. "Are we finished?"

"For now," Giles said. "Work up attack plans, and we'll set an actual time to carry it out once we've got everything arranged. Work fast though. This has to happen tomorrow, no later."

"There was more to the presentation," Pamela said, only a little archly, "but it's all in your dossiers."

"Faith and I will talk to the other Slayers," Buffy said firmly.

"Yeah, Megan and Kat too," Faith agreed. "Seeing as we're the ones to have gone Slayer vee Slayer before and all that. Nothing smarts quite like a chosen one's fist, eh, B?" Buffy visibly winced, and Giles barely kept from wincing himself. He really didn't need the reminder of what just two Slayers fighting could entail, not when they were facing a great deal more than that right now.

Ethan was giving Faith a sharp look, "Hmm, perhaps you and I –Faith, is it?– could have a little chat before you go off to teach the derring do?"

Trust Ethan to have the priorities of a very different drummer, Giles thought with fond exasperation. He considered intervening, but it would probably be best to let Ethan get it out of his system now. And he was quite confident in Faith's ability to make a good impression; she had changed greatly from the troubled girl she'd been when he had first met her.

"Right," Faith said slowly, looking at Ethan dubiously. "And this 'chat' has to be now? World to save mean anything to ya?"

"He probably just wants to give you 'The Talk', Faith," Xander said, clearly amused as he stood and collected the dossier of papers together.

"Talk? Chat? Yeah, got that," Faith said exasperatedly, obviously not 'getting it' at all. "But what's with the being called to the Principal's office crap?"

"Principal's office may not be quite the right metaphor," Giles put in mildly.

Faith looked back and forth between Giles and Ethan. "What? Did I spit in the holy Watcher font or something?"

Ethan chuckled. "Oh, that's surely more my sin than yours. I want to speak to you about my Slayer, that's all." He held out a hand towards the door. "Shall we?" Faith still didn't look very happy, but a glance towards Buffy won her only a confused shrug in return, and so she followed Ethan out of the conference room with obvious reluctance.

"He's interfering, isn't he?" Molly asked, still sitting at her place at the table. She shook her head slightly. "It's in his blood, I'm afraid. We don't always respect boundaries."

Giles chuckled. "I'm not sure I've discovered the boundary he does respect. It's one of his charms."

"What's going on?" Buffy sounded confused.

Dawn took her by the arm. "I'll explain outside," she told her sister in a loud whisper.

The rest of the meeting broke up fairly quickly then, with people leaving to deal with their assignments or other duties. Giles took his time gathering up his own papers and things so was one of the last to leave the room, but not the last. Molly was still sitting in her place, quietly attentive.

"Is there something you need, Molly?" he asked her.

"Oh no, dear. My needs are very small." She smiled placidly at him.

That smile worried Giles. "When Ethan smiles at me like that, it invariably means trouble."

"What could you possibly have to fear from me?" The twinkle in the eyes was familiar too. "I'm just a little old gypsy woman, Rupert Giles, out of her proper time and place."

Giles chuckled. "I wouldn't make the mistake of thinking you were 'just' anything."

She chuckled. "Strange, isn't it, _mi chinga-guero_ , how similar he is to me despite my long absence from his life. You look after him, don't you?"

"Yes." But honesty forced him to add, "Now. There were far too many years where we... lost each other."

She nodded. "I watched him, when I could. Your anger and then your ignorance saved you both by allowing me to persuade the Bear that you were a broken pair. So I can forgive, gorgio, for your sins of the past. Let him suffer like that again, however..." She moved her hands in a brisk 'no more' gesture. "I know you won't, so it does not need to be said."

"Ah, the shovel speech," Giles murmured with a faint smile, feeling strangely pleased that someone was giving it to him on Ethan's behalf. Aloud he said, "The way things stand now, his suffering is mine, and I am neither masochist nor sadist enough to invite it again."

Again, she nodded. "When this is over, I shall need a favour from you, Rupert Giles. You are, through marriage, sufficiently of the people now that I may ask it."

"Of course," Giles said, stifling his curiosity as to what the favour was.

"He'll find it hard to understand and feel guilty for his relief. You'll need to help him through that. That is your favour to me." She stood slowly up. "My favour to you will be to leave, to travel again after so long trapped and stationary. We shall be even, no debts owed."

"I would never begrudge Ethan time or proximity to others who care for him," Giles protested, although there was that tiny shameful part of him that liked being Ethan's sole emotional support.

"I confuse him. He isn't quite sure who he is around me." She walked over and reached up, touching Giles' earring. "You should be both the definer and part of the definition. We all shall be rewarded for our service, and my reward is to know the road again. Yours is not for me to tell, but..." She chuckled. "Take your time and enjoy it."

Giles already knew that Ethan was his reward. He thought back to the holiday plans he and Ethan were making for when this was over, and he smiled. "I intend to."

***

Ethan opened the door to the training hall in the basement and slipped inside. The area was brimful of teenage girls, gesturing belligerently and getting sweaty. For a few moments, he took the time to try and appreciate the sight as it would appear to a straight man, but he couldn't, not really. He wouldn't want to either, seeing as both Megan and Kat were included in their number.

It was Megan he was seeking out, wanting to get to her before Faith did, and he edged around the walls of the makeshift gym towards her.

Typical of his Slayer, she spotted him before he reached her and broke off her workout to come meet him. "Ethan," she said happily, hugging him unselfconsciously.

He promised himself that when this was all over he would take her out somewhere special, just the two of them. They hadn't seemed to have any casual time together for months. "Hello, sweetheart. How are things going in here? Can you afford a short break?"

"I can for my Watcher," she said grinning and hooking her arm with his.

"Come and walk with me a while then," he said, leading her towards the door. "What's the mood like with the girls?"

"There are some nerves, but generally everyone's got their head in the right space."

"Hmm." Ethan waited until they were almost at the door; then he spoke quietly enough that only Megan would be able to hear him over the background of Slayer aerobics. "Remember, no one else will tell you this, but your first priority is to stay alive."

She smiled at him. "Could say the same to you."

"I don't need the telling," he said, drawing her outside. "Fancy the roof, or too cold?"

"Roof's fine," Megan said as they started in that direction. "And considering who it was that almost died last time, I think you need the telling at least as much as I do. Maybe more."

Ethan took a deep breath. "Right. So we're even. I helped save your life, and you helped save mine. Now neither of us needs to start up the debt once more, agreed?"

"Way to take the wind out of my 'don't ever scare me like that again' speech," Megan observed with a wry smile.

Ethan laughed as they entered the stairwell. "I can assure you that I have no intention of ever doing anything like that again."

"Better not. I'll kick your butt if you do, and you know I can."

"Only if I don't see you coming," Ethan answered quite truthfully, confident in his power. "You Slayers, all such bullies," he teased.

"Yes, we're all adept at stealing lunch money and keeping our Watchers in one piece in spite of themselves." Megan stuck her tongue out at him and giggled.

They carried on, climbing the stairs to the top where Ethan typed his number into the keypad and let them both out onto the roof. It was a cold, clear day, and the view of London was friendly somehow, even with new monstrosities like the Gerkin altering the familiar skyline.

"So I hear," he started saying, as they walked to a chimneystack to sit down upon, "that you've been trying out a different kind of Slayer on Slayer."

Megan blushed.

Ethan chuckled. "Ah, it's so quiet up here, almost cathedral like." He poked her arm. "Talk to your Watcher."

"Faith and I may have... talked some," she allowed finally, still blushing.

"Really? Faith and I 'talked some' earlier, but somehow, I don't think we mean the same things."

"You talked to Faith?" Megan's voice had risen to an outraged squeak.

"I thought it was time I got to know her a little." It was always best, Ethan thought, to act as if there were nothing in his behaviour to which anyone could possibly object.

Megan covered her face with her hands. "Oh God..."

"Oh come. Whatever you're imagining, it's hardly as bad as that. She was a bit taken aback, I'll admit, but adjusted quickly. Far more reasonable than Rupert remembers her." Hopefully he wouldn't have to explain that last statement.

"I'm trying not to imagine anything at all actually."

Ethan tutted, feeling a little exasperated, and also, if he were being honest with himself, a little out of his depth. "I had to assess her, Megan. Her reputation is, well, almost as bad as mine."

Megan finally looked at him. "And what were you planning to do if she hadn't passed your 'assessment'?"

"Improvise."

She crossed her arms and pinned him with her gaze, and Ethan suddenly wished for a moment ago when she was just embarrassed. She said, "It really isn't your decision, you know, who I see or 'talk' to."

He'd been prepared for this one. "No, it isn't," he agreed. "I'm not making your decision for you."

"No?"

"No," he said firmly.

"Then what was with all the assessing and planning to improvise?" she asked, beginning to look confused.

"Back up."

Megan frowned. "Back up?"

"Yup." Ethan nodded. "Support services."

"So you weren't planning on zapping Faith somehow if she didn't live up to... whatever it was you were looking for?"

"Give me credit for learning something from the Jade farrago." Ethan wasn't actually sure what he would had done had Faith not impressed him with what seemed to lie under the short-temper and bluster, but he was relatively certain zapping wouldn't have come into it.

That made Megan look abashed. "Sorry. I just..."

"So tell me about her," Ethan interrupted. "Tell me your impressions. What you like, what you really like, and what you're not sure about."

"Beyond her being really, really hot you mean?" Megan asked with a tiny smile, appearing to be relaxing a little over the subject with him now.

"Even I could see she had a certain something." Ethan laughed. "And just your physical type too."

Megan blushed again, but the smile didn't disappear. "Well..."

"So it's purely physical? Not that there's anything wrong with that." He winked at her.

She shook her head. "It's not just physical. Faith... she gets the whole Slayer thing because it's her thing too. More than that, she knows herself, knows what she's capable of if she gives in to the dark, and she chooses not to. It makes her... centred in a way not many people are." She smiled at him. "Though I can think of at least one other I know."

He snorted and smiled, pulling her into a hug. "My young Athena. Truly, I only wanted to make sure Faith was not another Jade, but whatever she's been in the past, you're right, she has something that seemed a lot like integrity to me now. She may be your special one; she may not. That's for you to find out." He chuckled softly. "And as your Watcher, I order you to have fun doing so."

Megan grinned wickedly at him. "You've met Faith. Fun's kinda an understatement."


	6. Chapter 6

"You know," Giles said later that evening as he picked up yet another book of spells and rituals to go through, "I never realised quite how many ways there were of expelling a spirit or demon before. Possession apparently has been a larger problem throughout the ages than I would have guessed."

"Or simply a harder problem to solve," Ethan suggested dryly from the sofa. "The number of 'solutions' could represent the difficulty in finding one that actually works."

"Yes, well, considering what the current plan of attack consists of, let's hope it doesn't prove to be too difficult." He sat down beside Ethan again, leaning back against the sofa cushions with a weary sigh.

"I'm really not sure all this reading is necessary, dearheart." Ethan put down the book that he'd been holding in his hands; it had been obvious all along that he hadn't actually been reading it. He twisted on the sofa and combed a hand through the hair at Giles' temple. "Unless it helps you relax, which it doesn't seem to be doing."

"I don't think I'll be able to truly relax until this is over," Giles admitted softly, even as he closed his eyes under Ethan's light touch.

He felt an equally light touch of lips on his cheek. "I really don't want to start that argument we were having in the maze dimension again, but as my magic is now entirely improvised, I'm not sure how we could work together on one of these.... recipes." For a man who had once rejoiced in the high ritual of Chaos worship, Ethan was certainly dismissive of formal magic now.

Given Giles' own nature, it probably wasn't a surprise to Ethan that Giles had a harder time letting go of the forms and rituals of magic. "I fear I've been rather too schooled about the importance of being properly prepared to feel comfortable with a plan that is basically 'we'll improvise'."

"We have an outline," Ethan pointed out. "We're not completely without comforting structure."

"Maybe," Giles grudgingly admitted. It still bothered him though.

"Really, Rupert, when we're dealing with quintessential Chaos, being a control freak is setting oneself up for failure. Now, do you want to talk through the outline? Might that make you feel a bit better?"

"It might," Giles allowed, "if the outline actually included some detail on what we're going to do. I don't want–" He stopped when he realised what he had been about to say, and what that meant about why he was feeling so uncomfortable about this.

"What don't you want?" Ethan prompted, fairly gently.

"I don't want to end up standing on the sidelines watching, not knowing what I'm supposed to be doing to help." Like before, he thought, but didn't say.

Ethan pulled back. "When have you ever had to–" He paused. "Oh. This is about me, isn't it? About saving Dawn."

"Yes," he said. It was the truth even if he'd only just realised it.

Ethan pulled a long breath in through his nose and released it. "Rupert, no amount of book reading would have helped you there. What I did, as far as I know, has never been done before."

"I know. I don't want to take away anything from what you did. It was unique and selfless and perhaps one of the greatest feats of magic I've ever witnessed."

There was quietness for a while. A glance at Ethan showed him to be staring into space, a slight frown on his brow. His hand was moving slightly on Giles' leg though, in a reassuring manner. Eventually, Ethan gave himself a little shake. "Do you know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think the problem isn't too much improvisation or too little book-reading. I think the problem is the one we've been learning to deal with since this all started. We should be working together, intimately together, and not thinking about what each of us can do individually."

Giles turned that over in his mind. "I think you might be right," he finally said.

Ethan chuckled and moved closer, snaking an arm around Giles' waist. "We really should have learnt that by now, shouldn't we? I'm sorry. No more magic that doesn't involve you, I promise."

"At the very least, no more big life-threatening magic," Giles replied, sliding an arm around Ethan in turn, feeling better for the promise.

"So," Ethan said leadingly, moving a hand over Giles' chest. "We should probably prepare by becoming more... joined, don't you think?"

Giles chuckled. "You're trying to use our duty to seduce me?" he asked, amused at the notion and feeling the atmosphere lighten with the banter.

"Well, we could do some magic together if you like." Ethan made a show of thinking. "Maybe we could make a rose..."

"One petal at a time?" Giles asked, chuckling again.

"Yes, although I seem to remember progress became much faster after we'd removed our clothes."

"I think that was in spite of us removing our clothes actually."

"I disagree," Ethan said, slipping a hand under Giles' jumper. "I thinking the undressing had a lot to do with the speed at which we finished."

"Somehow I get the feeling we're not talking about the rose anymore," Giles said dryly, making no move to stop Ethan's wandering fingers.

"Probably not," Ethan agreed amiably. "We've got some good memories from this place," he went on, apparently changing the subject somewhat. "It's hard to recall how I felt when I first arrived here. May I take this off?" He lifted the hem of Giles' jumper a little.

"You always seem to be undressing me on this sofa," Giles observed, although he obligingly lifted his arms and sat forward enough for Ethan to pull his jumper off.

"I have no objection to going upstairs," Ethan offered helpfully. "The dogs can't join in, that way." Both dogs were currently asleep near the gas fire, but there was no guarantee they would stay that way, not that Giles hadn't become accustomed to their politely curious stares being directed at him during moments that should be private. Which was proof, he mused, that one could get used to almost anything given enough time and sufficient incentive.

"The bed would probably be more comfortable," he observed.

Ethan slid from the sofa to his feet and held his hand out. "Come on then. Let us seek comfort and each other in cleanish sheets." Giles let Ethan pull him to his feet with only a brief glance at the books he'd been using for research.

When they reached the bedroom however, they both stopped in their tracks. The bed was covered in suitcases and bags, delivered earlier that evening by Matthew. It was all the stuff they'd had to leave at Buckham Hall returned to them. After chatting to Matthew and Pamela, Giles had felt obliged to get on with research, and so he'd forgotten they still had it all to unpack.

Ethan laughed. "We could just push it all onto the floor?"

"It shouldn't take us that long to unpack it all," Giles pointed out reasonably. "After all, it didn't take long for us to pack it up in the first place."

Ethan smiled wryly. "If I can get you to put down your books, I suppose I can be patient for a little while in return." He sat on the edge of the bed and opened one of the bags. "Ah ha. Now I've missed these two." He pulled out first the soft toy badger that he had bought Giles for Christmas and then the fox, its inevitable partner in crime.

Giles smiled, taking the fox from Ethan and unconsciously smoothing its fur. "Packed together, I see, as always."

"Of course. How else would they get to shag?" Ethan sounded perfectly serious and reasonable.

"The sexual habits of cuddly toys has never been a subject I've given much thought to," Giles replied, quirking an eyebrow.

Ethan grinned over at him. "Every fox needs his badger."

Giles met Ethan's gaze for a moment and then looked down at the toy he still held. Silently he reached over and set the fox in Ethan's lap beside the badger. "Every badger needs his fox as well," he said softly, still looking at the toys instead of Ethan's face.

He felt Ethan's hand slide up his cheek to cup his face tenderly. "I'm here."

Giles covered Ethan's hand with his own, looking up and smiling wryly. "Took me long enough to figure out exactly how true that is."

Leaning over, Ethan began to kiss Giles, a slow, deep kiss that showed no immediate signs of stopping, which was more than all right with Giles. He reached out to pull Ethan closer. After a slow motion scramble, during which their lips never parted, Ethan was straddling Giles' thighs.

Giles wrapped his arms around Ethan, relishing the warmth and the weight of his presence. It had always been something good, something important, but since what had happened in the maze and its aftermath, Ethan's presence had become more than that. Touching Ethan, having Ethan close, it had become completely essential, as necessary as breathing was for his continued well being. It was a revelation that coloured everything else in Giles' life, and that was still taking time to get used to.

When their mouths finally parted, Giles drew back a little way. Ethan's eyes were closed, his lips wet and slightly parted, his breath deep and a little fast. "Don't stop," he murmured with a small smile, his eyes remaining shut.

"Never," Giles promised, leaning in to kiss him again.

***

The next day, Ethan was leaning upon the wall by the kitchen door and watching Rupert move around the house determinedly, collecting together bits and pieces for the coming fight. It was strange, he thought, but unlike the last time they had gone through this, before the journey through the maze, this time he himself felt no need to prepare or gather.

Dawn looked up from where she was sitting at Rupert's writing desk, working on... something. "Look at this, both of you!"

"What do you have, Dawn?" Rupert asked, adding a sword to the bag he was putting together and then walking over to where she was sitting. Ethan pushed away from the wall and wandered over as well.

"Look," Dawn repeated. "These are the symbols from the Pilantine casket. We know that this one means Chaos and this one, Order, or at least the crystal matrix. We've all had guesses about the third. So anyway, this is them fitted together as the symbol on the coin that opened the maze door." Ethan nodded, wondering where this was leading.

"They're all related, that much is obvious," Rupert said, looking over Dawn's shoulder at her work.

Dawn nodded. "Well, we thought the coin was a Chaos thing because of where you guys found it, right?"

"Yes," Ethan said slowly, "and it opened the door to the Chaos maze, after all. But I take your point that it has both Chaos and Order within the symbol."

Again, Dawn nodded. "I think we were wrong, and I think the third symbol is for Vaurtain, because look–" She grabbed an open book from under some papers and pointed at the picture upon one of the pages. It did look rather like the third symbol, and the caption underneath it read 'bear'.

Rupert took the book from her to look more closely at the symbol and the information provided there. "I do think you're onto something."

Ethan peered over Rupert's shoulder, trying to discern from what source the symbol came. "Dytriscan? If so, I might have guessed." He shook his head, annoyed at his own failure to discover something so obvious, especially as Harriet Giles' notes had mentioned the Dytriscans and their great bear god.

"We both should have," Rupert said wryly. "I guess we were distracted by the other things we'd discovered."

Dawn beamed, looking rightfully proud. "Well, the coin shows the Vaurtain symbol kind of containing the other two symbols, and I think that means the maze with you two within it. Maybe? What do you think?"

"It makes sense and fits with everything else," Rupert said.

"Where are you going with this, sweetheart?" Ethan asked, feeling certain there was more to come.

She grinned up at him. "That isn't the only way the symbols fit together perfectly. Look at this." She pulled out a sheet of graph paper on which she'd sketched a new version of the amalgamated symbol. The time the symbol for Vaurtain was held within the other two.

"Vaurtain held captive by Order and Chaos combined." Rupert smiled faintly. "I daresay that's encouraging that we're on the right track with what we're planning."

Ethan nodded thoughtfully. The symbols for Order and Chaos had been pretty much imposed onto and into each other in order to create the shape that enclosed the Vaurtain symbol. "That's really quite powerfully interesting, my dear girl. Well done."

"Yes, excellent work, Dawn," Rupert chimed in. "I can see future research efforts are going to be in good hands."

Ethan leant over and shuffled through Dawn's papers until he found a blank sheet. Taking that, her sketches, and one of her pens, he moved away to the sofa, his head full of enticing half-thoughts. He could feel eyes upon him for a long moment before he heard the movement away as Rupert went back to getting ready for the assault.

Some time later, Ethan felt the other side of the sofa sink down, and he looked up and smiled at Rupert, although his thoughts were still full of potent what-ifs. He felt as though he was teetering just on the very brink of epiphany, but for some reason, he was unable to walk that single step further. Where was a small yapping dog to chase him off a cliff-edge when he needed one?

"You look quite engrossed," Rupert commented, with a small smile, resting his arm on the back of the sofa so that his hand brushed the back of Ethan's neck.

"Hmm?" Ethan made himself look at Rupert properly. "Oh, don't tell me it's time to go?"

"Almost. We've a few minutes before we have to meet the others. What are you working on so diligently?"

"Something I think I may have to leave unfinished by the sound of it. Bugger." Ah well, it was probably nothing anyway. "So, hmm, what's the plan when we get there?"

Rupert gave him an exasperated if affectionate look. "This would be the outline you were so keen to emphasise yesterday," he pointed out. "You would know it if you had actually paid attention during the strategy meeting."

Ethan grinned in what he hoped was a loveable and ingratiating way. "There was something about Slayers, I believe."

"The Slayers will attack, keep Vaurtain's forces busy and distracted, while Willow, Dawn, you and I go after Vaurtain directly," Rupert explained with exaggerated patience. "Willow's job is to cast and hold the wards to keep Vaurtain contained in a small area with us. Our job is to exorcise him from Francesca and force him into the Chaos pouch."

"Right. I remembered the pouch bit anyway." He craned his head around to look for Dawn, but she no longer seemed to be in the house, or at least, not downstairs. His pattern senses quickly told him she was in Megan's bedroom, which she'd been borrowing, so he sent his next thought to Rupert telepathically. _'I'm not at all happy with the idea of Dawn being in the thick of the battle against Vaurtain. With the Travers bitch doing the driving, he'll aim directly at her rather than at us. I think I can handle the pouch safely enough...'_

"No," Rupert said out loud in a firm, brook no arguments voice, but he switched to thoughts himself before continuing. _'You're going to need all your attention and strength for what we need to do; you won't have any to spare to shield yourself enough to hold the pouch. Dawn, because of who and what she is, can hold it without that danger. She's been involved in apocalyptic battles before; she can handle herself.'_

Ethan shook his head fiercely. "Not unless she has considerable protection," he hissed aloud before continuing mentally. _'He/she/it will use Dawn against us otherwise. They'll see her as our Achilles heel, our loose scale. I didn't save her only in order for her to die now, fighting our battles.'_

 _'They'll be seeing wrong then. Dawn is not as vulnerable as you seem to think.'_ Rupert held up a hand to forestall more arguments. _'But we can ask Willow to cast extra wards around her if it makes you feel better.'_

Ethan frowned. "I want at least two Slayers with her at all times, as well."

"That will be more targets in the line of fire," Rupert pointed out, although the argument made little sense to Ethan. Weren't they all going to be in the line of fire anyway?

"Slayers have the strength, speed and senses to survive it," he pointed out.

"But not the natural immunity to Chaos that Dawn has." Rupert closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he seemed to be trying to regain his composure. "All of this was debated and discussed, and the plan we decided upon has the best chance for success with the least amount of risk."

"Don't tell me that she won't even have Buffy to protect her!"

"Who's 'she'?" asked Dawn from the stairs. Bugger, when had they started to speak out loud?

"We're just going over our plan of attack," Rupert put in smoothly.

Ethan sighed and drew himself to his feet. _'I'm not happy about this,'_ he sent to Rupert. He should have paid more attention to the planning, he knew, but more than three Watchers in a room at one time was a better soporific than a handful of valium. "Time to go, sweetheart," he said to Dawn. "All ready?"

"Yeah." Dawn was looking at him suspiciously. "You were talking about me, weren't you?"

Ethan nodded as he wasn't about to lie to the girl. He bent to pet Skunk who had appeared from somewhere as soon as he'd stood up. "Where's the pouch?" he asked Dawn.

"In my pack with the crystal matrix," she replied, lifting the knapsack that she was carrying by the arm band. "Why?"

"Just wanted to make sure that you had it," he replied, more or less truthfully. He went to the coat peg and grabbed his new jacket and Rupert's old one. "Let's get going then."

Skunk growled.

Rupert looked down at Skunk then up at Ethan, with a raised eyebrow. "Objections from the canine contingent of our group?"

Skunk barked, and Ethan stared at her. "What's wrong, girl?" She barked again in response.

"If this were an old movie, she'd be trying to tell us Timmy fell down the well," Dawn offered helpfully.

"She's certainly trying to tell me something," Ethan agreed. "Might be more helpful if you showed me instead," he told his dog. Immediately, she turned and scampered upstairs.

"Follow that dog," Rupert murmured under his breath as they went after her.

They found her in the bedroom, sat in front of the bedside cabinet on Ethan's side of the bed. When she saw Ethan enter the room, she lifted her forequarters to scrabble on the locked and warded drawer.

Rupert exchanged looks with Ethan. "Considering what we keep in there, that's rather... disturbing."

"Yes... Dawn, would you mind waiting outside please?" Ethan walked over and sat on the edge of the bed by the cabinet. Dawn looked between them and then left without saying anything.

Skunk whined and scrabbled some more, and Ethan had to push her aside to break the wards and open the drawer. He looked inside, shrugged, and then pulled the drawer all the way out, emptying the contents on the bed. Skunk immediately jumped up, landing within it all.

"I have mentioned how disturbing this is, haven't I?" Rupert asked, looking at Skunk sitting amidst the toys and other things that they considered not for public view. She had her paw on Harriet's magic makeup box, Ethan noticed. He reached out and slipped it from under her. Skunk immediately stood, barking and wagging her tail rapidly. "Makeup?" Rupert frowned. "That's what all this fuss is about?"

Ethan ran his fingers over the old wood of the box and felt a small shiver go through him. "Yes. Yes, this is what all the fuss is about. Well done, girl. Very well done indeed." He stood up suddenly. "Right. We can't waste another moment. We need to get there now."

Rupert looked at him. "That's it?"

"Yes, she pushed me over." He paused to hug his very very good dog indeed. "Clever sweetheart. Wonderful girl."

"You are, I trust, going to start making sense eventually."

"Perfect, world-stopping sense with a bit of luck." He grinned at Rupert. "Or at least, bear-stopping. Come on, move. Move!"

Rupert continued to look at him dubiously, even as they started back down the stairs.

Gwydion and Dawn waited for them at the bottom, looking interested and hopeful. "Door, now!" Ethan chivvied, waving his free hand in a shooing gesture. "We need to be there five minutes ago."

"Not literally, I hope," Dawn said as she allowed herself to be shooed outside. "We're good, but not time-travel good."

"Oh, I don't know." Ethan laughed. Well, all right, maybe it was more of a giggle, but he had good reason. "Today, we may even be that good."

The five crammed into Rupert's car, and then they were on their way.


	7. Chapter 7

It was only proper that this could best be described as 'organised chaos', Ethan thought as he ducked a Slayer's kick to his head, which would probably have detached it from his neck had it impacted.

Their sneak attack had rapidly become decidedly unsneaky when a trip wire alarm had been triggered by one of the clumsier Watchers as they entered the main complex on the airfield. This after Ethan and some of the other mages had spent such time and care disarming the magical defences and alarms.

Ethan's loosely held plans for how this would go had evaporated in the heat of a rather terrifying war which had immediately broken out. Hordes of teenage girls had proceeded to pummel the living hell out of each other in the corridors, and never had Ethan felt more strongly that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Only his pattern senses, providing as they did a brief forewarning of where the super-powered teenagers surrounding them were going to aim next, were allowing him to protect both himself and his small party of Rupert, Willow, Dawn and Kat.

Well, agreed, Willow probably didn't need protecting, and Kat was giving as good as she got, but both Dawn and Rupert were crippled by the knowledge of whom they were fighting and were holding their swords upright more, it seemed, in an attempt to keep the sharp edges away from their attackers than in a readiness to use them. At least Rupert could still use the less incendiary aspects of his magic, but still, things were looking grim.

Not the least because the vital preparatory work that Ethan had thought he'd have time for when they reached this point was now looking less and less possible.

He should have done it earlier, back at the car with the dogs before they started the approach, or even in the car on the way here. It was just that he had a feeling the Bear was watching them and wanted to give him as little forewarning as possible, but now, he wished he'd just done it anyway.

"Do you know," he said with a pleasant smile to the girl currently trying to hack at him with an axe, "that hair style really does nothing for you. Have you considered highlights?" He stepped back hurriedly, pushing against Rupert. "A smile would do wonders too."

Rupert's sword flashed forward, blocking the axe with a deafening clang of metal as it swung for Ethan's head. "I think your fashion advice is falling on deaf ears."

"We've got to do the breaking through thing and now," Dawn shouted over the clamour. "Which direction do we need?"

There was a surge of power from somewhere behind Ethan and a cut off scream from one of the enemy's mages lurking further up the corridor. "Oh neat, Willow!" Kat exclaimed.

"Considering that's where they're trying the most to keep us from going," Willow said, gesturing at the direction she'd just more or less cleared, "I'd take a chance on saying that's where we need to go."

That made perfect sense. Ethan strained his pattern senses out into four dimensions, trying to eke out any and every tiny hint of the immediate future that he could manage. "Come along, gang," he said, taking a step forward. "And as for you," he addressed the axe-wielding Slayer again, "you get time out for bad behaviour." Having finally located the tricky internal patterns that would allow him to do it, Ethan twisted, and the Slayer fell asleep where she stood.

He caught her as she fell, as an impact would only wake her up again, and laid her down carefully on the floor. "Try not to get yourself trodden on, eh?"

Their small party headed down the cleared corridor, the sounds of the main battle fading behind them. Gradually, Ethan became aware of... something; some presence that seemed to be twisting and ripping the patterns in its proximity.

Rupert frowned. "Is that–?"

"The Furious Frantain, yes." Ethan heard one of the girls giggle at that behind him. Well, sometimes things were just too serious to take seriously. "Rupert..."

Rupert gripped his arm, sending a thread of his magic through the touch, reassurance and affirmation in the mute gesture. "I believe this, as they say, is it."

No, not yet. It couldn't be. "We need... Rupert, the makeup..." Ethan clasped his borrowed waxed jacket close to his body, feeling the comforting edges of Harriet's wooden box in the capacious inner pocket. "We need to find somewhere..."

At that moment, the world seemed to explode around them in a maelstrom of black sticky tentacles.

Rupert swore as he, Ethan and Willow all instinctively threw shields around their party. "Gee, you think it knows we're here?" Willow asked, almost cheerily.

"This is the same revolting stuff that attacked us that night at Mountbatten," Ethan said. "Get into the middle, Rupert." But he knew as soon as he had said it that he was failing to learn from previous mistakes. "Bugger that. Hold my hand and do what you did back then."

Rupert's fingers closed around his own, and Ethan could feel as well as see the magic Rupert channelled into his sword, making it glow like a star as it slashed through the black tentacles reaching for them. In the meantime, Ethan was boosting his protections, condensing them and forming them into a proper shield just as he had the last time.

"Dearheart," he said urgently, speaking loud enough to be heard above the hiss and clash of battle. "We have to find somewhere before we find them. This is important!" Vital really, although Ethan didn't want to have to find the words to explain the urgency. It wouldn't be easy.

"When we take care of this little complication," Rupert said as he continued to slash at the morass, "we'll see what we can do."

"That won't take too long," Willow said. Ethan had been feeling her magic reaching out and probing the dark Chaos tendrils all along, and now he felt a huge surge from her as, with a muttering of Latin, she directed her considerable power into a chink in the tendrils' structure... if you could call it that. The inky tentacles seemed to crystallise, crackling as they became solid. It took just a single blow from Rupert's sword to shatter the lot, covering the floor in harmless grey dust.

"Handy," Ethan remarked almost cheerfully. "Could've done with you along from the start of this little romp."

Willow grinned at him. "You've been more than handy yourself in the magic department from what I've heard, but I'm glad to be doing the helpful helping thing."

"You might want to keep doing it?" Ethan said, eyeing with disquiet the small tendrils wiggling back into the corridor through floorboards and ceiling joints. "I have to have time with Rupert undisturbed. Not long, but some..."

Dawn squeaked and jumped backwards, quickly severing a tentacle that had touched her. Ethan was pretty certain the girl was immune to the raw Chaos threat, but, as she went on to say, "These things are gross!"

"No argument from me on that," Kat agreed, severing a couple of tendrils herself.

"We can handle it," Willow told Ethan. "You two do... whatever it is you need to do."

"Probably best not to know," Ethan said. After all, he hardly knew himself. He tugged on Rupert's hand, pulling him back behind the others. "No one turn around, or you'll be turned into pillars of salt... Erm, unless I shout 'help!', anyway."

 _'So what is it that you want to do now that we've got some semblance of privacy?'_ Rupert asked, speaking mentally.

 _'Well, first I need you to trust me,'_ Ethan replied, feeling inside his coat for the wooden box.

 _'You know I do,'_ was Rupert's unhesitating answer.

Ethan drew out the box and opened it up. _'I'm not sure if we need to strip or not.'_

Rupert was looking at him rather dubiously now. _'I trust you, Ethan, but don't you think this isn't an appropriate time or place for... what happens when you use that box?'_

Ethan stared at Rupert a little helplessly. _'I... This is very hard to explain, although I know I really should. I just have a very powerful... instinct. I... I don't think that shagging is going to happen. We're not going to body paint each other... at least,' > he trailed off uncertainly. _'I don't think so.'__

Rupert looked at him searchingly. _'You're sure we need to do this.'_ It was more of a statement than a question. Beyond them, there was another surge of power from Willow, and all three girls laughed at something.

 _'Yes, we have to.'_ And they needed to do it quickly; the sense of urgency was becoming an intolerable pressure inside Ethan. He dipped his finger into the metallic bronze and quickly but carefully sketched the Chaos symbol from the casket and coin onto Rupert's head. Only when Rupert didn't scream in agony and clutch his head did Ethan admit to himself just how scared he'd been about doing that.

Rupert did half-raise a hand towards his forehead, but stopped before he touched the new mark. _'It feels... It's tingling,'_ he sent with a frown.

 _'Don't touch it. You remember the sign for Order, the one from Dawn's dream? Draw it on my forehead. Quickly now.'_ Ethan pushed the box forward, and to his relief, Rupert didn't ask any more questions or hesitate. He just dipped his finger in dark blue makeup and traced the requested symbol on Ethan's brow.

It did tingle; Rupert was right. Ethan grabbed the box and put it quickly down on the office desk so that he could take Rupert's hands. "Brace yourself," he said aloud as he began to knit their patterns more tightly than he ever had before.

He heard Rupert's sharp intake of breath, felt Rupert's fingers tighten around his own, and then felt something more as he wove them closer, something of Rupert's emotions, his soul. Oh Christ. The magic was working, running away from Ethan, powered by the symbols on their foreheads. He had to stop now, or he wouldn't be able to, and it was too soon to let that happen.

But he wanted it to. Oh, how he wanted it to.

Ethan shuddered and tore himself physically away from Rupert, although the bonds he'd woven remained. "Oh, my Ripper," he murmured very softly.

Rupert was staring at him, looking a bit shell-shocked. "That's... What was that?"

"Preparation," Ethan said, returning the box to his jacket pocket with trembling fingers. "Come on, let's go."

It looked for a second as if Rupert was going to try and continue the conversation, but in the end he just nodded, and they turned back to the fight. A good thing, as Ethan doubted his ability to resist going further had Rupert pressed.

There wasn't much of a fight to return to in fact, at least not until their group got going again and trotted around a corner straight into a small horde of Slayers and Chaos acolytes who had somehow avoided Ethan's pattern sense. Then it was back to catching breaths between blocks and attacks. It was different than before. Even as he was dodging his way through the fight, he was preternaturally aware of where Rupert was and what he was doing, just a hair's breath away from feeling like he was doing it himself.

If he'd had the time, Ethan knew he'd be getting off on this. Wasn't it what part of him had always wanted? To be intrinsic to Rupert, essential, intimate in a way that normal relationships never achieved. Ethan wondered how Rupert was experiencing the closeness, knowing Rupert's fear of losing himself, but there was no time to ask, nothing to do but duck, shield, and move forward.

The others were doing the same thing, wading through the fight more than actually engaging in it. They all were keeping their objective foremost in their minds. This was just an impediment on the way. There was blood splattered across Kat's face, but pattern-sense told Ethan it was not her own.

The familiar feel of Vaurtain was growing increasingly oppressive; they were close now. "This way!" Willow said suddenly, a blast of her magic clearing a narrow channel that led to the back of a fire door, not easily opened from their side.

Ethan felt Rupert's words on his own lips as Rupert cast a quick opening spell on the door, pulling it wide.

The immediate way was clear, so they piled in, only to wish, in Ethan's case at least, that they could all pile out again. They were in a large hall, which had perhaps once been a canteen or something similar, although it seemed free of furniture now. While it was relatively normal where they were standing, a little further in, Chaos coated every surface, dripping like syrupy rain from the ceiling and growing and intertwining like tropical creepers up the walls and across the floors. The way forward seemed to grow increasingly impenetrable as Ethan stared into the Chaos jungle.

No longer a simple menacing black, now the Chaos had fractured into every colour and hue imaginable, and was continuing to fracture, to change and mutate. There could be no stability here, no symmetry or balance, no cohesive patterns or recognisable shapes. Ethan felt something approaching awe, but he also felt vertigo, a seasickness-like nausea, and if he felt that bad, Christ knows how the others felt.

Well, the others not Rupert, anyway. It was, Ethan suddenly realised, Rupert's reaction that he was feeling so vividly, not his own. Chaos made Rupert quite literally ill, like some instantaneous plague or toxin. Ethan poured strengthening magic into both of them, unable any more to treat Rupert without also treating himself.

Rupert was quick to push down his reaction. "Willow, if you could ensure our path behind remains clear and shielded," he said determinedly, conjuring their magic around his sword blade again, which this time was thicker and sharper, more machete-like. He didn't speak to Ethan, but he didn't need to; Ethan knew the plan as soon as Rupert had formed it and was reaching out his arm before Rupert held out his hand to him.

Strangely, it seemed a lot easier to keep the Chaos at bay now, protecting all of them with his shields, despite the fact that there was so much more Chaos around them than ever before. Ethan wanted all the small mercies he could lay his hands on, however, and anyway, he knew why it was so easy; it was because he was wielding Rupert's power as if he had been born to it. He laughed aloud in something approaching joy.

Rupert glanced over at him with a wolfish grin, the same joy reflected in his own eyes as he slashed his way through the tendrils and vines of Chaos, like an old time explorer chopping his way through the bush. Their progress was quick in spite of the seeming impenetrability of the Chaos manifestation.

Still, it wasn't all easy; that much Chaos was going to have effects even with the strongest of shields, and it wasn't too long before Ethan felt a phantom ache in his left leg that matched the limp with which Rupert was now moving. Instinctively, Ethan wove Order magic around their –well, Rupert's– scarred flesh, soothing the memory of the Chaos-inflicted wounds.

There were flowers now around them, strange ever-changing blooms of fractal iridescence hanging from writhing creepers. _'In another time and place, another world, this jungle would be beautiful,'_ Ethan sent to Rupert as they hacked through a thick trunk, the sword burning as it sliced. Ethan wondered how much of his own awe Rupert was experiencing through their strengthened link. _'Looking at this, can't you see how Chaos is life? How, without it, all would be sterile?'_

 _'Chaos on its own is as destructive to life as is Order on its own,'_ Rupert sent back. _'One will run rampant, nothing taking hold because it is only the change that is important. The other will freeze everything in place and let nothing change at all. It's only in the balance between the two that life can exist.'_ Another wolfish smile was thrown over Rupert's shoulder at him. _'Couldn't help but give the matter some thought these last few months.'_

 _'Yes, I know. You know I know that, but still... there is beauty here that you'll never find in the rigidity of perfected structure.'_ Ethan sighed as he prevented a particularly heavenly blossom from brushing his cheek. There was temptation here in the wild beauty, a siren call to surrender form and propriety and just give in to essential freedom...

"Ethan?" Dawn's voice asked sharply from behind him, her voice concerned. "Are you... what are you feeling?"

"It's all right," he reassured her, feeling strangely calm. "It wouldn't be were Rupert not with me." And with him in such a real way. "I'd be lost and happy to be so. But Rupert's keeping me safe, sweetheart. Don't worry. How are you? This can't hurt you, can it?"

He risked a glance back over his shoulder at her; the jungle seemed to be shrinking away from her just the tiniest bit, the same way it seemed to be reaching out to Ethan. "I'm fine," she said. "I think it's more worried that I can hurt it."

Kat seemed less at ease, her face grim, and Ethan found himself suddenly thinking of the girl's dead brother. This garden, this Chaos Eden that was so very attractive to Ethan, did it seem like the unrestrained growth of cancer to the healer? Now that he'd thought of that, the limitless fecundity suddenly ceased to feel so attractive to Ethan. "Let's hurry," he said, his voice as grim as Kat's expression.

Rupert's hand, still clasped around Ethan's fingers, gave a reassuring squeeze as Rupert continued to slash them a path through the Chaos. There had been no visible sign for quite a while of the hall that they were presumably still in. Reality, it appeared, had little hold on a place so oozing with Chaos. The five of them were silent now, and that somehow seemed the most sinister thing of all to Ethan. Scoobies were never silent, not even when staring certain death in the face.

"Whatever happened to 'whistle a happy tune'?" he muttered under his breath.

No one answered and then, almost suddenly, the living Chaos was giving way in front of them, clearing, falling back like curtains from a stage. And before them, bright and incongruous, was the nerve centre of the beast. There were tables covered in documents and maps, high tech computers and screens displaying strange kaleidoscoping patterns and textures. A Slayer stood to either side, armed with jagged blades that stank of magic...

But most importantly, Francesca Travers stood in front of it all, as if ready to greet them.

She was smart and efficient in khaki and cream, a handheld gadget of some kind in her right hand. She looked every inch the professional Watcher in the field... that is, until Ethan let his vision slide back into pattern sight.

Vaurtain was wrapped around and through her, in some areas like a cloak, in others very obviously sinking into her, flesh and bone. The Bear loomed larger than Francesca's physical form, a presence behind and above her, perpetually looking as if he were about to cascade down and bury her, wash her and anyone close to her away. But the worst was Francesca's face. She barely looked human anymore. Her eyes shone with a burning, gleeful madness. Whatever sanity she had once possessed was gone, crushed under the overwhelming presence of Chaos. There was knowledge of what was happening to her reflected in her gaze, and horribly, an acceptance of it.

Ethan's grandmother had fought against Vaurtain, giving him no more than she'd had to, and so had survived for decades under the possession. Francesca had so obviously given in to the power offered that she was all but destroyed in less than a month. Ethan almost felt sorry for her.

But not quite.

"Why, Mr Giles, how very expected to see you," she said, stalking forward a couple of steps and exuding both confidence and amusement. "Do you know, I would swear your actions are easier to manipulate than one of those remote-controlled cars that seemed all the rage a few Christmases ago. And of course, the loathsome Mr Rayne – how are you? I'd like to say that you're both looking well, but I do abhor dishonesty, don't you?"

Her voice, to Ethan's ears, existed on multiple registers simultaneously. It gave him shivers.

If it did the same to Rupert, and Ethan was reasonably sure it did, he didn't show it. He simply stood there, calm and confident and every inch the Head Watcher. He looked Francesca up and down with contempt and disdain. "It didn't take much intelligence to foresee that we would come here to take care of this... inconvenient problem, which it's nigh past time we got to. Willow?"

"Got it," Willow replied instantly, and Ethan felt the powerful wave of magic as she cast out around them, effectively sealing all of them within near unbreakable shields. That was her out of the fight then. The shields would take all her power and concentration to maintain.

The two enemy Slayers rushed forward as Vaurtain thrashed around Francesca's body, clearly infuriated by Willow's spell. "What good do you think that will do you?" he asked with Francesca's mouth. "It changes nothing!"

"Oh, that's just first base," Dawn proclaimed, making Ethan send a questioning glance her way as he ducked a Slayer's kick. "Just wait until third, when the clothes start coming off."

"Get back, sweetheart," Ethan muttered, not wanting her to draw any more attention to herself than necessary. He could feel her vulnerability like a break in his own armour. Vaurtain probably couldn't hurt her, but the Slayers now tag-teaming on poor Kat most certainly could.

Rupert moved smoothly, stepping forward and putting himself between Dawn and their enemy. "That's merely setting the stage," he said. "We wouldn't want anybody to wander in once the show had started now, would we?"

"If you believe we need more than just ourselves to defeat you, little brock, you have severely miscalculated." Francesca took a step back, pressing a button on her handheld device. There was an immediate rumble, the ground shaking beneath them. Ethan wasn't sure what he was expecting, some high tech weaponry of some sort maybe, but what hit him was a sweet-smelling wave.

A wave or perhaps a blanket of untamed, quintessential freedom. Colours shimmered, ever-changing; beauty rose and fell only to rise again in a new shape. It fell over him, restricting not at all, yet covering him, filling him with the tang of yearning. He fell to his knees, laughing with delight.

Somewhere far distance he heard a woman's voice. "We have everything we need to defeat you right here."

From an even further distance he heard other voices calling his name, like the annoying buzz of mosquitoes in his ears, but it was easy to ignore them in favour of the wonder that was surrounding him. What he couldn't ignore, however, was his husband. Rupert appeared out of the captivating colours and shapes, kneeling in front of Ethan and reaching out to take his hands.

And the wild, scintillating spectrum of colours that so caressed and stimulated Ethan, through Rupert's senses were thick and sticky as tar, and they were breaking the bonds of Rupert's flesh apart like children's bricks. A wail of pain sounded from both their throats.

Ethan felt Rupert's agony as his own, and he plunged forward, rejecting the Chaos, the siren beauty, rejecting everything but Rupert, claiming nothing for himself but his lover, his husband, his shared soul... He fell into Rupert's smouldering arms, knocking him backwards, out of the blanket of Chaos, and he kept falling.

The process Ethan had begun in the corridors took up where he had stalled it. They'd had a brief taste of this the first time they had used the makeup, the breathtakingly powerful solitary figure they'd glimpsed in the mirror at their climax. There was no mirror now, but instinctively he, they, knew it was happening again.

Cell bonded to cell, neuron to neuron, their two patterns overlaying each other perfectly and becoming one...

***

There was a crack of something thunder-like. It seemed to originate from them, the Guardian, and it compelled them to their knees. When the dust cleared, a girl screamed behind them. They stood, towering over the other entities in this small space. Vaurtain surged backwards from the Travers female, fleeing away from them, becoming stretched and thin. But then he sprang back like a taut rubber band and swelled above his host.

 **"What is this?"** he crackled through the female's mouth.

Things that had been murky or not seen at all were now thrown into sharp relief, such as the tendrils Vaurtain had sunk into the female's body and soul, parasitic vines feeding off her strength. The wrongness of it called to them, and instinctively, they reached out with their power to pull the tendrils away.

The Bear howled **"Mine!"** and sunk his claws in deeper. The female shuddered and stumbled back, making choking noises.

Behind them, one of the younger females, one of their allies, said, "Uh, hello?"

"Stay back," they said, not taking their eyes off their enemy, stepping forward as he retreated. Calling their power, they reached out with a white hot hand to once again prune away the dark tendrils from the Bear's chosen victim.

Their heat touched the substance of Vaurtain, but the Chaos did not hurt them. Vaurtain could no longer harm them at all, not directly. He could harm their allies though, and he was harming the female, Francesca Travers. Should they let her die so that the Bear would be driven out? No, surely enough blood had been shed. Either way, they continued burning away the tendrils, watching impassively as the Chaos sizzled and withered under their power.

The Travers female screamed.

Suddenly, the Key stepped forward, glowing with a light that filled them with protective courage and pride. "Here, you bully," she said, waving something, the Chaos pouch, in her hand. "Doesn't this smell nicer than stinky old Watcher woman?"

They could feel Vaurtain's attention become fixed on the Key and the pouch she held. The distraction lessened his hold on the Travers female, and they took immediate advantage of that, striking with all their might at the remaining claws Vaurtain had within her.

It worked. With a screech that caused ears and eyes to bleed, that caused spontaneous bruising in every human present, Vaurtain relinquished Francesca Travers, who collapsed to the floor in an ungainly heap, unmoving. The Bear surged forward.

Outrage filled them as they moved to intercept, but the Chaos beast was too fast, too desperate, and eluded their grasp. He fell upon, not the Key, but the struggling Slayers like a spiked net from above, piercing their spirit-bodies with his claws as if trying out all three, looking for the perfect bear-bed.

The girls grabbed each other in their pain and fear, their enmity forgotten. The one called Kat struck out with her sword, but could not hurt the enemy that in all likelihood she couldn't even see.

Fuelled by rage and determination, the Guardian dived forward, simultaneously throwing a shield around the Slayers and pummelling at Vaurtain with their unified power, beating him back and placing their body between the Bear and his prey.

"The children are not for you, beast," they yelled, twisting their power to create a net of their own, forcing Vaurtain backwards towards the Key. "Destiny brought us here to meet you, and destiny dictates that this is your last battle."

The Bear roared his defiance at them and threw himself at their net of power, but he couldn't break through. Step by agonising step, they forced Vaurtain back, towards the Key and the Chaos pouch she held.

Behind them, the Slayers stood together, stunned or confused by the transformation of the Watchers and Vaurtain's attack. In front, however, the Key stood firm, the hand holding the pouch raised in invitation. "Mmm, honey," she said. "Lovely Chaos honey just for you."

The Guardian laughed, part of them, at least, finding the girl's words amusing. Vaurtain howled, his form wavering and compacting between the two forces. He couldn't speak now; even his ability to think must have been fading fast without a host. His inevitable decision was the only one left to him, the only one they would allow him.

With a wail like a jet engine speeding down, the Bear hurtled into the Chaos pouch like so much black smoke.

The Key immediately pulled the pouch tightly shut, and the Guardian added their own power to the seal as well. Reaching into her pocket with her free hand, she pulled out a key-shaped crystal, the Bachian Matrix. Then she looked at them expectantly.

One step brought them to her, and they enclosed both her hands in their giant ones as they smiled down. "Well done," they said benevolently. "Now to finish this."

It took little more than a polite knock on the door in magical terms to persuade the matrix to open to them. They pushed the pouch within and locked the crystal tight again. No longer key-shaped, it now formed the perfect cube. Unbreakable, impregnable except by them, Vaurtain was vanquished from this world and all others.

It was over.

The Key grinned up at them as they released her hands. "Not too often the bad guys are so easy to store," she said, tossing the matrix in the air and catching it.

The Slayer, Kat, walked over, looking both wary and puzzled. "That's it?"

"Destiny is complete, the ends of the circle joined," they told her. "The Bear cannot be killed, but he is now banished from this plane forever."

The Key looked up at them and raised her eyebrows. "What's with the Gandalf speak?"

"We merely speak the words that convey our meaning," they replied.

The witch, who had been silent all this time, suddenly moaned and sank to her knees. "I had to drop it. The, uh, warding circle," she said. "We don't need it anymore.... uh, do we?"

They shook their head. "The danger is past. The Bear is confined in a self-sustaining prison."

"And more with the Gandalf-speak," the Key muttered under her breath.

The jungle of Chaos was gone from the hall now, unable to maintain itself in this world without the Bear to support it. The Slayers of the enemy were clutching at each other, looking confused and frightened. Kat approached them again now. "It's all right. You're safe. We're the good guys."

The Key looked up at the Guardian. "You two intending to stay that way? 'Cause if so, we need to find some X-to-the-power-of-many size clothes for you, and fast. The view down here is way more education than I need."

"Too right," was muttered from within the huddle of Slayers.

They looked down at themselves, but saw nothing that should not be there. They were just about to point that out when a good portion of the rest of their force came pouring into the room. "Slayer patrol is cleaning up the corridors," Xander said, "but it looks like as far as defences go, it's all over but the fat lady sing– and whoa, when did we acquire a large, naked glowing guy?"

"Meet Giles and Ethan, the, uh, collected edition," Kat said dryly.

"Oh my God!" The exclamation came from the Senior Slayer, Buffy Summers, who was standing in the doorway. "Dawn, cover your eyes immediately!"

The Key made an expression that indicated wry disbelief. "Bit late for that, sis."

"Can I cover my eye?" Xander asked plaintively, all the while staring.

They felt confusion. "We are relatively certain that you will not come to any harm by viewing our person," they said. "Magnificent although it is." They moved a hand down their golden belly in admiration, but then suddenly jerked it back to their side as they became strongly aware that that would not be suitable behaviour.

There was silence for a moment then Buffy stepped forward, arms crossed. "Right. Time to split."

No, that was not right. The Slayer was incorrect. "There is still a lot to do. Now is not the time to consider diminishing."

"Nuh-uh," the Key said slowly, staring at them with a frown. "It's all done. There's just cleaning up left now."

More and more people were entering the hall, only to stop still and stare at the Guardian. They saw their Slayer, Megan, come in. She put her hand to her mouth. "Oh God."

They frowned. "There is no need to be upset, child. This is our true form."

"Huh. Maybe it's your secret superhero form, but it's time to go back to your mortal every day and preferably clothed identities now," Xander told them.

Megan walked hesitantly forward. "Ethan? Are you..?" Her voice cracked.

Buffy stood beside her, looking far more forthright with her hands on her hips. "Giles, it's time to stop this. Enough with the dressing up games."

Dressing up games? Why were all the children acting so... upset? "It was necessary to become. The Bear had to be defeated. We... rather like it actually."

Willow stepped up to join the two Slayers facing them. "It was necessary, but the need's over now. Vaurtain has been taken care of. You have to let go of this shape."

They found themselves taking a step backward. The children were so intent. It was as if this form hurt them somehow, and they didn't want to hurt the children. Not at all. On the other hand, never had they felt more right, more perfectly aligned, than in this form...

A hand touched one of theirs, the Key's. "Don't make me have to separate you." She said it with a smile, like a joke, but they could tell she meant it. Could she do it? Well, if any could, she would be the one.

"A little longer?" That sounded worryingly like begging.

Willow shook her head, looking sympathetic but resolute. "The longer you stay together, the more difficult it will be to separate. It has to be now. Before you forget what it's like to be Giles and Ethan."

That gave them pause. Forget...?

They felt uncertainty now. The rightness that had felt so comforting was becoming murky and conflicted. The witch was right; they could see that clearly, but separating was going to tear their soul. "We... I... We have..." They fell to their knees and clutched their head in their hands.

"Do it now, Giles, Ethan," the Key said firmly.

Part of them was used to self-sacrifice, to enduring pain in order to do the right thing and protect those they loved. That part took the lead in doing what needed to done now. They turned their attention to their pattern, finding where two had become one, and slowly, grimly, they started teasing themself apart.

They wept as they did it, as the pain grew, and when finally they fell apart, naked, shivering and bereft, at least one of them howled.


	8. Chapter 8

Although it felt like he was moving through molasses, Giles shuffled enough to pull Ethan into his arms and he held on as tightly as was physically possible. It wasn't nearly close enough, but it was all he could do. Ethan whimpered and clung, his misery hard to distinguish from Giles' own intense sense of loss.

"We, uh, should probably find them some clothes," someone said.

"Or at least a blanket," another answered.

Giles knew they should acknowledge those voices somehow, but he just didn't have the energy to spare to do so. Not yet. He buried his face in the crook of Ethan's neck, breathing in the familiar scent, taking what comfort he could in that. _'I'm sorry,'_ he murmured through their still shared thoughts.

 _'Don't let go,'_ came back immediately from Ethan. _'Never let go.'_

Giles wasn't certain how long they lay there, shivering together, but something large and slightly scratchy was eventually spread over them, and gentle hands began to encourage them to sit up.

"I know it hurts," someone- Willow? -said. "It really hurts, but you'll be all right, I promise. You still have each other. You really do."

They did. Giles tightened his grip on Ethan at the thought, to the point of pain. That was the important thing. _'She's right,'_ he sent to Ethan. _'We're still together. Even if we're not... together.'_

 _'I know.'_ Ethan's mental voice seemed sad but resigned. _'I... I know.'_

"Uh..." Kat's voice, coming from close by and sounding worried. "Where did Ms Travers go?"

"We should–" Giles began, but then stopped, words feeling strange in his mouth after all that had happened. He cleared his throat and tried again. "We should track her down. There's no telling what condition she will be in after Vaurtain's possession."

"It... it was very complete," Ethan said quietly, not looking up from where his face was buried in the crook of Giles' neck.

"Here," Xander muttered, handing a bundle of what looked like clothes to Giles. "One of the guys had a suitcase with him. They won't be perfect fits, but..."

It took Giles a moment to convince himself to let go of Ethan sufficiently to be able to take the clothes from Xander. "Thank you," he said gravely. Then he kick-started his brain on the issue at hand. "The Slayers should search the building to see if they can find Francesca or her trail."

"On it," Kat said, turning and striding from the hall. Giles took this moment to look around. There were less people in here now, just their friends. That... was a blessing. He looked down at Ethan, whose grip wasn't lessening at all. Getting dressed would be impossible unless it did.

 _'Love, do you think you can let go enough for us to get dressed?'_ he tried gently. _'Xander is looking a bit traumatised around the edges.'_

"Boy has a problem with nudity," Ethan grumbled aloud, pulling back ever so slightly, but not letting go. "Not healthy."

Giles was encouraged by the grumbling and rewarded it by dropping a chaste kiss on Ethan's cheek. "Nonetheless, shall we try to be accommodating?" he asked, pressing one of the sets of clothes into Ethan's hands.

 _'Rupert...'_ Ethan sent, his mental voice miserable. _'This is... intolerable.'_ But nonetheless, he sat up separately from Giles and began to sort through the bundle. "I never realised how much you must hate me, Xander Harris," he grouched as he held up a pair of unlovely trousers.

"If I hated you, I would have grabbed the plaid pants instead," Xander responded with an airy wave.

They got dressed in silence; Giles felt unable to summon up the feeling of urgency he knew Francesca's disappearance should warrant. _'Isn't winning meant to feel better than this?'_ It took a moment to realise these were Ethan's words in his mind and not his own. Giles looked up and met Ethan's gaze and found himself reaching out without thought to grasp his hand. It was far from the unity for which they were aching, but any connection provided some comfort. _'Maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet,'_ Ethan sent as if trying to find the positive, for which Giles silently thanked him.

Kat and Megan returned just as they were preparing to leave the hall. The pair looked relieved to see their Watchers dressed and standing up. "Giles, Ethan," Kat said, a grin seeming to hover around her lips. "You really should come take a look at this."

Any distraction seemed a good thing at that point, so, after exchanging a questioning look, they followed their Slayers through the hallways until they got to the lobby by the front entrance.

There, in the middle of the lobby sat Gwydion. Sat, in fact, on top of a sprawled Francesca Travers, who appeared to be talking quietly to the carpet. The wolfhound was looking insufferably pleased with himself.

There was a strange hiccup from Ethan, followed by a snort. Giles quickly glanced over at him to see Ethan's mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile, and he felt the beginnings of one tug at his own lips in response.

Ethan glanced back at him and surrendered to a fully fledged grin. "Does anybody, perhaps, have a camera?" he asked.

***

Giles was coming out of the bathroom when he walked into Ethan, who smiled rather sheepishly. "What? I just happened to be walking here... at the end of the landing where there's nowhere to go bar where you happened to be."

It was now several days since they had finally defeated Vaurtain, since they had experienced the complete merging of their bodies and souls. The intervening time had been spent recovering and trying to readjust to being two separate people once more. They were only now finding themselves able to venture out of immediate contact with the other for short periods. Like for bathroom needs.

"It wasn't like I was making a break for it and climbing out the window," Giles pointed out, although he also automatically slid his arms around Ethan's waist.

"I know." Ethan chuckled softly. "I didn't even realise where I was going until I found myself here."

Giles sighed in contentment as Ethan fitted against him like he belonged there. The readjusting, it seemed, was going to take a while longer. "My very own homing mage," he teased, trying to make light of the situation.

"We are getting better," Ethan insisted, snaking his arms under Giles' jumper. "I just got caught unawares."

"By my going to the bathroom."

"Well, more by my standing up without a definite objective in mind." Ethan pulled back a little, enough to meet Giles' eyes. "Be honest, dearheart. How much is this getting to you?"

"You following me to the bathroom?" Giles asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

"That bad, eh?" Ethan frowned and looked down. "I am trying."

"Hey." Giles reached out and touched Ethan's face, making him look back up. "There's no blame here. We just have to find a new equilibrium between us. A balance that works for both of us."

"I think..." Ethan started hesitantly, but then stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. He seemed more determined when he continued. "I'll be all right in the office next door if you want to go in to work."

Ethan looked like he was steeling himself to face a firing squad. "No, you won't," Giles answered with assurance and then added more softly, "And neither would I."

The steely resolve melted into obvious relief. Ethan pressed closer and lifted a hand to stoke Giles' face with gentle fingers. "And how much do you hate that? Please tell me, Rupert."

"I don't hate it," Giles replied, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch.

The wonderful fingers stopped moving. "But... your work? The Council... How–?"

"They're not you." It was an obvious, simple truth, just as the fact that he needed Ethan was one. Everything else was shifting and changing, and he was still waiting for things to settle enough for him to make sense of it all, but this much was set in stone.

Ethan stared into Giles' eyes for a few moments and then slid a hand behind Giles' neck, leaning in to start a deep and emphatic kiss.

Giles kissed him back, losing himself in the taste and feel of Ethan for a moment before reluctantly pulling back. "Why don't we move somewhere a bit more comfortable than the middle of the hallway?"

Ethan obligingly slipped his hand into one of Giles'. "Wherever you like, husband mine." They made it to the other end of the landing and then entered the bedroom without conscious decision, at least on Giles' part. Immediately, Ethan was in his arms again, lips pressed to his and a noise of satisfaction rumbling deep inside him.

 _'There are advantages to not being one entity,'_ Giles sent mentally, far too busy kissing Ethan breathless to speak aloud. _'Couldn't do this if we weren't two different people.'_

 _'Agreed,'_ and even Ethan's mental tone seemed slightly breathless. _'Although I would have liked an opportunity to handle that magnificent–'_

_'I think we scandalised the girls enough without adding self exploration to the pot.'_

Ethan's hands had found Giles' belt and were busying themselves with it. _'It was Xander's reaction I found interesting.'_

Giles relinquished Ethan's mouth to trail nipping kisses down his throat instead. _'I've been trying very hard not to think about Xander seeing us. Bad enough about the girls, but Xander is somehow worse.'_

"You shouldn't be embarrassed," Ethan said aloud, sounding almost affronted. "We were, hmm, beyond superlatives. Take pride in us, dearheart." Giles' trousers fell to the floor and warm hands slipped under the waistband of Giles' boxers and slid over his buttocks. _'I do,'_ Ethan sent as he returned to kissing.

"Yes," Giles murmured against Ethan's skin, "but you've always been an exhibitionist." He slid his hands over Ethan's jumper, directing a little magic with the words, " _Texurum divid_ ," causing the material to split at the seams and fall from Ethan's body.

Ethan looked down at himself. "You know, it comes to mind, I can't think why now, that you promised me a substantial shopping trip."

"We can see about one next week," Giles promised carelessly, repeating the unravelling spell on Ethan's trousers.

Ethan laughed, stepping out of the shreds of his clothing, and pushed Giles gently bedwards. "That's the third outfit you've turned into rags since we won the war, my dear."

"Perhaps you should give up wearing them," Giles suggested not at all seriously. Well, not very.

"Willingly. You hardly think I'd argue with that, do you?" Giles' legs hit the bed behind him, and Ethan lifted Giles' tops up, pulling them off.

Giles let Ethan push him back on the mattress and grinned up at him. "Yet you keep getting dressed when we get out of bed."

"Well, only because you seem so adverse to my nudity while Dawn's staying here." Ethan leant down and persuaded Giles' legs to part where they stuck off the side of the bed. He knelt down between them and slid flat hands up the length of Giles' belly and chest. "You know, I don't think we've been having enough sex recently." He seemed to say it with complete seriousness.

"There was that time we paused to eat," Giles replied thoughtfully, reaching up to run his hands lightly over Ethan's arms. "And of course, all that time we wasted sleeping..."

"Yes, that really was terribly remiss of us." Ethan planted a kiss at the top of Giles' left thigh. "We have a lot of vital catching up work ahead of us."

Giles caught and held Ethan's gaze. "I'd say a lifetime's worth," he said softly. Ethan's expression flickered with some intense emotion before he looked down again, kissing Giles' other thigh before trailing a wet tongue to the base of Giles' cock, where another kiss was planted. "Love you," Giles murmured as Ethan's lips then closed around him.

They had, in fact, spent a great deal of the last few days inside each other in one way or another. As they were constantly touching, constantly dealing with the memory of having been one in the most literal of senses, it was inevitable that they'd found themselves sliding as easily in and out of sex as Giles' cock was currently sliding in and out of Ethan's mouth.

With orgasms rewarding their efforts so frequently, the peaks had rounded out, and pleasure and need had merged somehow to give everything they did now an erotic or at least sensual haze. It was... well, quite wonderful actually. This was the peaceful hedonism Giles had rather fondly imagined during all that talk of holidays prior to the last battle with Vaurtain, and here they were achieving it effortlessly within their own home.

It didn't take long before he was coming yet again in Ethan's mouth. Afterwards, Giles moved onto the bed properly, and Ethan lay down beside him, saying, "You see? I knew I must have come upstairs for something."

"I won't argue with your reasons." Giles felt lazy and sated, wanting nothing more than what he had just then. He sighed contentedly, pulling Ethan into his arms and languidly kissing him.

"As rewards go, I have to say I rather like the one we're being allowed here," Ethan said, rubbing himself gently against Giles, but with no urgency to his actions. "Long may it last. Buffy tried to explain Heaven to me recently. I think I understand just a little better now."

"I've never really expected heaven out of my life," Giles mused out loud. "I've rarely enough expected happiness. As a Watcher, even the times I didn't officially have that title, all my strength and energy went into making sure there was a world where others had a chance at such things. I had my duty and responsibility and the satisfaction of beating the dark back for one more day. I always told myself that it was enough."

"Nowhere near it."

Giles smiled briefly at that and gave Ethan a kiss, but continued on, feeling like he was on a path that he had to follow. "Each apocalypse, each fight, they all leave their marks on you. Emotional scar tissue if you will, where little pieces of your soul are cut away." He grimaced. "Sometimes not so little."

Ethan stiffened and drew away slightly at that, lifting himself up on his elbow and frowning down at Giles. "All your soul is present and accounted for," he said, almost forcefully.

"Yes." Giles reached up and caressed Ethan's cheek, loving him all the more for his fierceness. "Battered and bruised and scarred, but surprisingly intact."

Ethan maintained his frown for another few seconds, but then smiled and bent to kiss Giles. "It's going to stay that way," he said, as he pulled back.

Giles returned the smile and waited for Ethan to settle back down before he returned to feeling his thoughts out. "There's a knack to surviving such a life emotionally unscathed, of course. You just have to learn not to care. I never was very good at that." He sighed deeply as the decision he'd been dancing around for days suddenly became crystal clear. "And I seem to have lost what knack I did have for it."

After a pause, Ethan said, "We'll find a way to make it work again." He moved a hand over Giles' chest. "It's like you said, we just have to find a new equilibrium between us."

"I don't think I want to make it work again."

There was another, longer pause from Ethan. Then, "Rupert, what are you saying?"

"I don't want to go back to the Council. I don't have the stomach anymore for the decisions that have to be made." Giles shook his head. "Maybe I'm abandoning my responsibilities and duty, but–"

Ethan's arms tightened around Giles. "No, you're abandoning nothing. No duty lasts forever, and every soldier gets to retire from war eventually, if death doesn't take them first. Oh Rupert... Will you be happy? How will you occupy your mind?" It was fairly obvious from the fierce enthusiasm suddenly in his voice that Ethan very much supported Giles' fledgling decision.

As for Ethan's questions, there was one answer to both of them. "I have you," Giles said simply.

For a second or so, it looked as if Ethan was about to burst into tears, but then he laughed loudly. "Everything I ever wanted," he said with smug delight. "On a bloody plate. This _is_ heaven, sod all the clouds and harps."

"You wouldn't know what to do with a harp anyway," Giles teased, basking in Ethan's happiness.

"Oh, I'm sure I could find a use for it – a mandolin cutter for large vegetables perhaps." Ethan moved, pushing Giles more properly onto his back and lifting a leg over him, so that he was straddling Giles. He grinned down. "So I finally have you completely in my power, do I?"

"Well you have my complete attention, at least." He slid a hand lightly over Ethan's thigh.

"All I ever wanted," Ethan said again, his cock thickening once more as he stared down at Giles. "You've given me it all."

"I'm glad," Giles said, staring back, feeling a sense of contentment and rightness that had been lacking for most of his life. "It's only fair. You've given me everything I needed."

Ethan snorted very softly. "That's part of it, you know. The fact that I could, that you need what I have to give. That's part of what you've given me." He gazed with great sincerity into Giles' eyes, but all the while his hand was moving, sliding over to take hold of Giles' own, which he lifted. "Of course, there is one need of mine currently unfilled," he said with a grin as he pulled Giles' hand over towards his erection.

"We should see what we can do about that." Giles closed his hand around Ethan's cock.

**Author's Note:**

> So very many thanks go to Wesleysgirl and mpoetess for staunch and reliable betaing throughout this massive project.


End file.
